Vomica Vita
by Manny Maarie
Summary: This is the story of Melina and her dark journey through the nightmare and dream that is Middle Earth. Glorfindel,OFC. Warnings: character death and references to torture,rape.
1. Punishment

**Updated Author's Notes: **After a recent, and wonderful, review I have decided to clear out something about the way my story is narrated. My narrator is not omniscient, it describes only everything from the perspective of Melina and as such, her thoughts and feelings. I prefer writing at the third person though, and I apologize if you find it difficult to follow the stream of consciousness at times, but it is meant to be ambiguous. Just remember that the reader is not suppose to know anything more than what Melina tells you...oh, and she is an unreliable narrator; keep that in mind.

**Authors Notes:** This fanfiction is based on the Lord of the Rings books and others of Tolkien's great work and notes; I own nothing.

**!!!WARNING!!!:** This story contains references, and scenes of, non-explicit rape/tortute/sex; as well as deals with topics of depression, suicide and Post traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). If ANY of these things offend you or trouble you, PLEASE, do not read any further. Consider yourself warned.

Now, since I have never (thanks the Luck) been in any situation traumatizing enough to suffer from PTSD, I cannot draw Melina's eperience from my own. Therefor, though I have researched the symptoms and causes of PTSD and try to write it as truly as possible, I do wish to apologize if I somehow insult anyone who sufferers, or knows a victim, of PTSD. For anyone interested, you can enter the letters PTSD in wikipedia and learn of this disorder.

**Prologue**

"You were a stranger to sorrow: therefore Fate has cursed you."  
-Euripides (484 BC - 406 BC), Alcestis, 438 B.C.

The nurse left the room quietly, so as not to wake up the old woman. As soon as she was out and the door was securely closed behind her, she let out a breath of relief; Melina Whiner was the worst patient she had ever seen at the institution. Cranky, independent, foul mouthed and violent, Melina would also often pretend to be senile and conveniently "forget" to take her medications. It was not a wonder that her family, whoever they were, had decided to get rid of her; and not surprising either that in the 9 years since she had arrived at the nursing home, Melina had never entertained any guests or received any letters. This had been the subject of much conversation between the nurses; who paid for her expensive stay here? But the accountant for the nursing home rarely came to the place and when he did, he refused to talk about the private information of any resident. Celine wondered if she even had a family. Usually the elderly did not place themselves in nursing homes…usually.

Wherever she had come from, she had never been taught any sort of manners; or if she had, she certainly did not apply them here. Celine remembered one incident last week where she had been close to hitting the old hag. She had been in the midst of a routine cleaning round, dusting, sanitizing, changing, but as she had been about to leave she heard Melina spit behind her. She had turned around calmly and looked at the yellowish ball of slobber and mucus on the otherwise clean floor. _You've seen worse_, she tried to tell herself as she bent down and wiped away the disgusting liquid. But as she stood up again, she heard Melina say:

-"I believe you've missed a spot dear heart!" Celine looked at her and saw such maliciousness in the woman's eyes that she almost lashed out with her hand. Instead, she turned and left the room, not even gracing the woman with a "good night" as she heard her laughed hysterically.

Celine shook the memory from her mind and slowly walked up to each room under her care to make sure everyone was asleep and comfortable. She passed one last time in front of Melina's room, pressed her ear to the door and when she was satisfied that it was quiet, she left for the kitchen. She would be able to relax for an hour or so before she'd have to wake up Mr. Balken from room 123; he needed to be taken to the bathroom every 3 hours, or else she would have to be cleaning a nasty mess. She sat by herself in the brightly lit cafeteria, over a hot, steaming mug of black coffee and thought about her schedule for tomorrow.

She would have to go do the grocery sometime after waking up and then pick up her daughter from dance practice; remind her husband to pick up the babysitter before they would leave for a fancy evening at an Italian restaurant. She smiled at the prospect; they had reserved the babysitter for the entire night so that they would be able to sleep at the 4 stars Hotel downtown; it would be, after all, their 5th anniversary. Celine chuckled like a little girl and wished she could speed up time in some way and be with her husband now; instead she looked at the clock which indicated that it was only 10pm; sighed, and brought the mug to her lips.

BOOM!

Celine jumped at the sound and cursed as she felt hot coffee fall over her hands and white uniform. She got up and tried to brush away the offending liquid while jogging towards the patients ward. Where had the noise come from? Was it Allan from 114 who was sleep walking again? Or maybe old Bill from 130 who was knocking on his wall...But as she walked further into the corridor, quickly opening each door and scanning each beds, a strange sense of dread filled her guts.

It had not been Allan after all, he was sound asleep, and so had everyone else between him and Bill, who was also asleep; only one room remained, Melina's. Peering into room 131, Celine let out a cry of stupor at the scene before her; Melina was shaking violently in her bed, clutching her left arm. Celine rushed to her side, but almost tripped on the night table and its content, which had fallen and had been the probable cause of the noise. She jumped over the objects and into the old woman's bed.

"It ok Melina...calm down...breath, look at me, its going to be alright..." but Celine could see that the woman was scared to death and that she was growing weaker in her struggles.

The nurse pressed the emergency button on her pager, which she kept on her belt at all times, and hoped that the ambulance would get there in time. The woman was now barely moving and her eyes were wide open in terror. Her right hand was still tightly hooked around her left arm, which seemed to hang lifelessly over the side of the small bed. Celine had only witnessed the death of one patient, a year prior, and even though they were trained for these situations, she still found herself feeling powerless and distressed. It was only after 10 minutes, which seemed like hours to her, that the medics rushed in the room and gently, but firmly, tossed her aside to take care of their patient.

Celine did not notice how they revived her, nor what they shot up Melina's arm or what equipment they installed around the patient's bed. She answered their questions without realizing she was speaking; no, there hadn't been anything unusual today with Melina; yes, for once she had indeed taken her medications; no, she hadn't received any disturbing visitors; she never had visitors, _she was all alone…no one else in the world to care if she was going to die or live…all alone._

"Miss! …Miss!" the medic cried and Celine suddenly came out of her trance.

"I'm sorry…what?" She felt her cheeks become red and kicked herself mentally; this was not the time to lose it.

"She'll be alright, for now. But you should communicate with her family…she won't be here for long; two days at most."

Celine only nodded, there was nothing more any of them could do, they would leave her here…it was better to die here than in a hospital, at least she thought so. Contact her family, she thought; what family? She stared blankly into the medic's face as he told her that she should inform the establishment's doctor of the situation and she nodded in their direction when they left. The room fell silent again and Celine approached the bedside of the old woman; she seemed to be unconscious, sleeping probably.

She sat on the bed and a lonely tear fell on her smooth cheek…_No one should die alone, should they?_ No matter how horrible they were, how harsh they could be and how tough they would like to believe themselves to be, no one should have to go through this alone…not even this woman. Gently, she lifted Melina's right hand; it was cold and rough to the touch, but she held it tight and rubbed it unconsciously. She was so lost in her thoughts that she did not notice that the woman had awaked and was speaking to her until she was in mid-sentence.

"…for nothing you know. It was bound to happen! Oh and off with you, I don't need a young healthy nurse by my side to remind me that I only have a few days to live…" but her arguments fell to deaf hears and her voice was so weak that it lacked any real feelings. Celine did not budge.

"No respect for their elders…" she heard Melina mumbling before she drifted back to sleep.

Celine stayed with her as long as she could, before tending to her other duties; there was a mess waiting for her when she arrived, too late, to Mr. Balken's room. The rest of her shift went like any other and it was easy to get lost in the routine and forget about the dying woman in room 131. She had contacted the doctor like the medic had recommended, and the young man had arrived soon after, asked her a few questions and went to tend to Melina. When she left for home in the morning, Celine was exhausted and immediately fell asleep after her shower.

The next day went just as plan; she woke up early afternoon, somewhat well rested and drove to the local grocery store. She picked up everything on the list, twice, and was at the cash before she realized her mistake; she cursed herself mentally and tried to push away the thoughts of Melina which had been occupying her mind since waking. After she apologized a hundred times to the cashier and left with only half of what she had brought to the counter, she went home; dropped the grocery bags for her husband to put away and hurried out before he could say one word to her; she was late to pick up Natasha. Celine was not late. But she only learnt this when she brought the car to a stop in the empty parking lot in front of the dancing hall and, looking at the clock she realized she was in fact 2 hours early.

Dropping her head heavily against the stiring wheel, she groaned; _snap out of it_, she thought. At least Andrew had more sense than his wife and when she arrived with her daughter a few hours later, the babysitter was already there. The couple left after making sure everything was in order. Celine was not a great conversation at the restaurant, and though they had an agreement not to talk about work, Andrew asked what was bothering her so much. Celine told him about Melina's heart attack, but quickly shrugged it off and began eating her now cold pasta. At least she was able to forget about the cursed woman when they arrived at the hotel room; Andrew made sure of that. She relaxed under his strong hand as he gave her the most amazing massage ever; and laughed whole heartedly when they were assailed by millions of bubbles after Andrew dropped the bottle of soap in the bathtub. And then they retired to bed, and though they got little sleep, Celine did not complain at all. She did not think about Melina again until she was on the road to the nursing home Sunday night and wondered if the woman would be alive when she arrived.

She was.

In fact Melina was as cranky and difficult as she had ever been and the nurse who worked the shift before Celine was more than happy to leave the old hag in another's care. Celine went about her cleaning and medicating, but she left Melina's room for last so that she could spend more time with the woman. When she entered the dark room she thought Melina was asleep; but as she began to clean she heard a cough and turned to the bed where the old woman was grinning broadly to her.

"Its going to happen tonight; you'll see. I'll finally leave this terrible place and go somewhere great, some place beautiful where I can start over and not end up in this shit hole." She chuckled, but was cut by a violent fit of coughing.

"Don't say that. I'm sure you have more time then you think." Celine replied and tried to give the woman her most honest and reassuring smile.

"HA! Don't wish me bad luck; why on earth would I want to spend more time here, uh? To see you and others like you trying to comfort me, to remind me that my entire life was a failure; that no one comes to visit me because there is no one, because the people I use to know left me to my own fate; why would I want to be reminded that I never married, never had children, never left my own god damn house for 60 years until I was dragged here by my maid! Oh don't you worry, I'll be gone by the end of the night and you won't have to pretend to care about the old bitch in room 131 because she'll be gone! Gone somewhere new…somewhere better than this."

Celine could say nothing; she simply looked at the poor old woman and wondered what had happened in her life that had made her such an awful person. She finished her cleaning and left the room quietly, trying to block the words from her mind as she made her way to the cafeteria. But her coffee was not as relaxing as it had always been and the clock's ticking seemed louder than usual; as if it was in her head, like some sort of countdown…When, at long last, she couldn't take it; Celine dropped her mug and ran to room 131; it was 4am. She opened the door briskly and entered.

The figure on the bed didn't move, at first, but then Celine saw that Melina was shaking; her entire body was trembling. She ran to the bed and felt her eyes burn with tears. The woman's face, as the moonlight showed it, was twisted into a horrific grin, her eyes were wide open with madness and her words gave Celine a cold chill.

"Gone, I'm gone from this…this terrible…your terrible place…You'll see, a new life and I'll be pretty too, like all of you…So pretty, somewhere so pretty…somewhere nice…"

Her voice softened from a scream to a whisper and, at the very end, her dull, green eyes focused on Celine; she smiled, baring her ugly, toothless mouth, and whispered: "Somewhere where I can start over…" She died in the arms of the young nurse.

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**Chapter 1**

"Let the punishment match the offense."  
-Cicero (106 BC - 43 BC)

Melina groaned as she slowly came back to consciousness. Her body ached so much that her brain had difficulty registering what exactly hurt and where. She took a deep breath, but instead of the stale air of the nursing home she inhaled dust and smoke. Coughing and spitting, Melina opened her eyes and realized she was lying on her stomach, naked, on a very uncomfortable ground. Fear began to creep its way into her mind and she felt her heart pump faster. Where was she? Pushing herself up on her knees, Melina could only stare at her surrounding with an open mouth unable to truly take in what she was seeing. She was outside, in a place she could only describe as a wasteland. There were no trees, no grass, no flowers; only a blackened ground and giant fires which seemed to be coming from the earth itself.

Melina's eyes widened in horror when she noticed that there were creatures moving around the place; they were not like anything she had ever seen, short, ugly, brown or blackish with red eyes and evil smiles. Melina made to get up and perhaps run away, but as she slowly raised herself, she realized that something was wrong...or right, depending on how you saw it. Her knees did not hurt like they always did, the back of her hands were smooth and looking down at the rest of her naked body, Melina realized that she was not the 93 year old she had been minutes ago...she was young.

She could not explain the feeling that took over her then; a mix of ecstasy and terror. The feeling settled comfortably in her mind and she took another deep breath; the fires and creatures were forgotten. She smiled evilly at nothing in particular and had to keep herself from jumping in joy. She had won! Won over life and time and its hold against all things alive; she had come back, young and ready to begin anew...she had won!

Melina was still in the middle of celebrating her revenge against everything and everyone she had ever met and hated when she felt a cold hand grip her left arm, hard. She winced and screamed at the unexpected feeling before she turned to face her assailant. Who dare touch her in her moment of glory?! One of the little horrible beings was spitting curses at her in a language she had never heard before, or at least she figured they were curses from his tone of voice. She tried to free herself from his strong grip, but the ugly thing only grinned at her, smacked his lips and began dragging her away.

Melina cursed under her breath, this was not the way it was supposed to happen. Looking around, she hoped to find a way to escape this horrible place where, obviously, she did not belong and had been sent by mistake. When her eyes fell on the black tower towards which they were heading, she almost lost all hope. The structure brought a sense of such dread in her guts that Melina wished for nothing more then to be back at the cursed nursery home, in the arms of that silly nurse. She tried pulling on her arm again, but the thing did not even seem to notice.

More little demons were gathering around them as they approached the tower, each uglier than its was she? Was this one of those purgatories where Men were judged for their past lives and then sent to heaven or hell? Or was she just going through some sort of hilarious nightmare while those insane medics were tying to revive her? Whatever it was, she did not like it.

When they reached the bottom of the stairs of the dark tower, the front doors opened in a loud bang, and a man walked out. The light reflecting from his white garments blinded Melina for a second. She shielded her eyes against the light with her free hand and peered at him between her fingers. He was tall, old and bony..._quite ugly_, she thought. He looked at her, his eyes piercing and sharp; _the only thing about his body that seemed young_, Melina thought and felt a sense of triumph: she had won. But the feeling passed quickly as the man began to speak in a strange and unknown tongue.

After a lengthy speech; the hundred, or so, demons around her exploded in a fit of dreadful laughter and cheers. The man in white seemed very happy with himself and stared her down. Melina, despite herself, felt a sudden sense of humility; she looked away as her cheeks turned bright red. This caused a renewal of the ground shaking laughter and she could see that the demon holding her arm carried his head a little higher than it had previously; _he is expecting a reward for his find_, she thought.

The man suddenly cried something, waved his hands over the crowd, and all noise was quieted. Melina stuck out her head high again and glared at him. He simply smirked, spoke some more, and then re-entered his domain. She almost breathed out a sigh of relief, thinking that her troubles were ended, but the little demon suddenly began to walk up the stairs to bring her into his master's house. Melina's effort against her captor redoubled. She kicked, screamed and pleaded while the thinning crowd whistled, spit and chuckled. Tears flowed freely down her cheeks when they reached the entrance and she was dragged into the tower, the doors closing behind her.

The sudden change of light caused her eyes to experience a short, but disconcerting, period of blindness. Blinking furiously to clear away her tears, Melina's pleas for help were now nothing more than mumbles even she could not understand. She was being led down a corridor towards a dimly lit room where she could see the man in white walking in circles. Their entrance stopped his strides and he looked at her directly before giving some sort of order to the demon holding her. The thing immediately let go of her arm and left the room, closing the wooden door behind him. Melina resisted the urge to take a few step backwards, and instead examined the room while the man began another of his long speeches. _He talks too much_, she thought as her eyes lingered over a particularly interesting bookcase. There were dozens of multicoloured books lined perfectly, none of which she recognized or was able to read. Wherever she was, it was not a country where they spoke English.

She was busy examining the contents of a nearby, beautifully crafted, table when she felt a shadow looming over her. She became aware of her mistake somewhat too late; this man did not take well to not being listened to. He was looking down at her, close enough to reach out and touch her. Melina tried to swallow her fear and appear brave, but when she smiled at him, the man lost his temper and lashed out. His hand came in contact with her cheek faster then she could register and left a stinging sensation. Melina was too shocked to do anything more then reach up and probe the wounded flesh. He muttered something under his breath and headed towards the door from which the demon had left the room; leaving her unattended. Tracing a hand over her cheek, Melina cursed the man mentally:

_That son-of-a-bitch, who does he think he is!? The slimy Devil, I'll show him! He thinks he is so great, but he doesn't know, does he, that I won...he hasn't won, I did! I made it! He's old and wrinkly; he lost._

Melina was smiling to herself, much like a mad woman, and even chuckled out loud. She heard a sound of indignation to her left and turned to see the white Devil glaring at her. One of those ugly demons, perhaps the same one that had brought her here, was by his side. The little thing said something to his master, which seemed to appease the man, for he smiled and replied in a cool voice. They talked for a few minutes, perhaps debating her very fate, but Melina did not pay them any attention, she had won.

Her ecstasy was not even toned down when she was again gripped by the ugly duckling and dragged out of the room. She even dared to hope that they were going to lead her out, that it was, of course, all a mistake and that they realized she did not belong here; after all, she had won. But the demon did not take her outside, he did not even approach the exit; instead he swerved left and Melina found herself at the bottom of a huge staircase. Without hesitating, the demon began to climb up the never-ending spiral, dragging his prisoner along.

Up and up they went until Melina thought they would touch the sky. Her bare feet were frozen and hurting; they could not do this to her! But on they went for another hundred stairs. At long last, the demon stopped in front of a door and opened it. When Melina saw what was on the other side though, she almost wished they had kept moving upwards...she was being led into a torture chamber. Various tools and weapons covered the walls, along with chains, prisoners and/or skeletons. The room was large and circular, with 4 or 5 other doors, all closed with a small barred window on each; prison cells.

Melina tried to twist her arm free, but it was a reflex more than an honest try, she was too shocked to be able to think clearly. The room contained only one other non-imprisoned inhabitant. It was another demon, much like the one that was leading her, except he was not short or clumsy-looking. He was taller than she, with strong arms and an evil, more frightening face. He was in the middle of removing a man's toenail when they walked in. He turned away from his handy work and Melina saw that the face of the man tied down on the torture table showed relief and hope. _How ugly and pitiful he is_, thought Melina...that man had not won either, but she had.

She was rudely brought out of her reveries by the shorter and uglier of the demons; he was dragging her towards a second, empty, torture table. Melina's grin only broadened, the last of her sanity fleeing from the room and leaving her to her fantasies. She spit in the demon's face when he tried to sit her on the table and roared in laugher when he slapped her cheek in response. The taller of the two demons, the Torturer, seemed annoyed by his companion's stupidity and moved in to interfere.

He pushed aside the smaller demon, which grumbled but did not resist, and shoved Melina on the table. The Torturer's strong hand pressed between her breasts, and kept her torso into place while his other hand worked to secure her hands and feet. She was barely resisting him, lying still on the table and falling into fits of laughter now and then. The smaller demon seemed to be frightened by the woman's strange behaviour, but the Torturer appeared to find it amusing. After she was securely tied down, the Torturer walked away and returned to his previous victim. Melina heard screams of pain and thought: _how weak and ugly that man is_, and she laughed.

The smaller demon gave her one last glance before leaving the room…leaving her alone to consider her victory.

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Well, I hope you enjoyed it.


	2. Redemption

**Author's Note:** Thank you to all readers! Special thanks to my Beta readers and friends who help me get rid of those nasty grammar mistakes and plot holes!

Hope you enjoy this chapter, its gets brighter as we go...well, sort of...No worries!!

**Chapter 2**

"I believe in the forgiveness of sin and the redemption of ignorance."  
-Adlai E. Stevenson Jr. (1900 - 1965)

Of the extended period of time that Melina spent in the dark tower, she was probably lucid for less than a third of it. Usually she would only become coherent while in her dark cell, eating her stale bread and water, tending her to her fresh wounds; but sometimes her conscious mind would awaken between torture sessions while she was still tied to the table, and those were the worst. She would scream, cry and plead to the Torturer, who always seemed to take too much pleasure in her suffering.

But for the majority of the time, Melina's consciousness was hiding safely behind layers of psychosis while her body was being stabbed, burnt, raped and otherwise mutilated. Her brain registered everything, every sensation and every pain, but to prevent a complete mental breakdown, the memories were stored safely away from Melina's reach...until she was back in that dark cell.

Whenever she awoke in her cell she would sob for a long time, curled up in a semi-clean corner, unable to sleep. Instead of resting, she would search her mind for the buried memories and replay them like a movie. She discovered, by doing this, that the white Devil had become much more agitated lately. He would attend to her torture sessions once in a while and ask her questions, or what she thought were questions.

At first he seemed to think that her refusals to answer, or her answers in an unknown language, were funny but lately he had seemed angry. Maybe he was beginning to realize that she did not belong here, that she had indeed won…and that she should be somewhere more glorious than this place in which, according to one of the voices in her mind, she had already spent way too much time.

Though the voice might know what it was talking about; Melina herself was not quite sure how long she had been at the tower. There were no windows in her cell except the one on the door and so she was unable to see the sunlight. Even the torture chamber had no windows and was lit only by candles.

Her cell was extremely small; it was long enough for her to lie down on her back, her feet to the door, but was only as wide as the door itself; which forced her to walk in sideways. It was not too high either; she could easily touch the ceiling by barely extending her arm. To Melina, it looked like a tomb and she was sure that it was the place where she was going to die...again. Her cell was also extremely dirty and the smell was unbearable.

One day, or night, she did not truly know, Melina's cell door was opened, strangely enough, by the white Devil. His face showed distress, the sort of distress she had seen on people who realized they had indeed made a grave mistake and wished nothing more than to go back in time to redo things - but his face also showed determination. _Whatever had happened_, she thought, _he was not going to admit his wrongs easily, nor apologize to anyone_.

He took a step forward into her dark cell and wrinkled his nose at the smell. _Sorry_, she thought, _if I knew YOU were coming I would have cleaned_. He walked to where she sat on the cold stone floor and lifted her up roughly. He said something with a hint of sarcasm before dragging her out of the tiny tomb, pass the first torture table, and the second; pass the skeletons,and Melina's heart began pumping faster with hope when she realized they were heading for the exit. She stopped herself from jumping around like a little girl on Christmas morning and quietly followed the white Devil out of the torture chamber. But her heart sank again as the white Devil began climbing up the stairs, instead of down. But there was nothing else she could do except to follow him, and so she did.

When she had climbed the stairs the day when she had arrived here, she had thought they were nearing the top; now though, she wondered if this tower even had an end. It went on and on, ever round and seemingly perfect in its design. Her weak, wounded and bony body was having a hard time keeping up with all this exercise. Her feet were numb and she could see that the places where her toenails should have been were now bleeding heavily; so was that ugly wound on her left leg. She fell many times during their trek, and each time she was dragged for a few stairs on her knees before the white Devil forced her on her feet again.

When the Devil finally stopped, Melina's hopes for freedom were all but gone; they were nowhere near an exit, not even a window. They were, however, in front of a door which he opened brusquely and threw her inside. She stumbled for a few steps before falling forward on all four. Melina bit down the cry of pain that threated to escape her lips, but she could not stop the single tear of frustration from running freely down her dirty cheek. She heard the Devil step in behind her and she painfully got up to her feet to face the man.

He was grinning broadly, as if he had achieved some sort of victory and began another of his never ending speeches. Melina felt a wave of annoyance hit her; how thick did one have to be to have not established that she did not speak their language; after all this time?! But the man was not talking to her she realized after hearing a strange sound from the back of the room; and she turned around. There, alone and all clad in grey, stood another old man. His beard and hair were white, his face seemed to have lost all its color when he had spotted her, and his blue eyes were wide in shock.

The Devil was still rambling on about who knows what, but she could only concentrate on this newcomer. His eyes were his most remarkable asset, their blue depths seemed to have no end and the compassion and pity she saw in them made her heart sick with grief; more so when she realized that the compassion was aimed at her. She tried to force herself to hate this new man, this person who thought he had any right to pity her when, clearly, he had not won…she had…had she not? Her eyes filled with tears, had she won? _Of course you have_, she heard the voice in her mind say, but for once, she doubted its honesty…she did not even know if she wanted to win anymore, maybe it would have been better to lose.

Melina shook her head slightly, where were these thoughts coming from; what was this man doing to her? She could not look away from him; after all the evil she had been surrounded by, he was like a breath of fresh air in her heart, a light at the end of the tunnel…and then they were both forced to turn away.

The Devil was screaming now, his hands, one of which held a white staff, were thrown towards the sky. _And I'm the insane one_, she thought, but a stern look from the man in grey stopped her from laughing. Instead, she backed away a little and listened as the man in grey barked something back to the Devil. He stopped his crazy chanting and turned towards the newcomer with a cold grin before speaking again and his voice was filled with venom. The man in grey looked at the Devil horrified, and then his eyes shot towards her. The look she saw in his eyes was one of such deep sorrow that Melina felt her breath catch in her dry throat and tears stung her eyes like razors.

He muttered something to her, and she had the terrible feeling that he was apologizing. Right then, she wanted to run to him, hug him and tell him that none of it had been his fault; anything to take away that look from his eyes. No one should have to carry that much pain, especially not this man. The Devil spoke again, only to be quickly interrupted by the man in grey. It seemed to Melina that they argued for hours and with each passing word, she witnessed a bit more of the Devil's sanity leave his eyes.

At long last, they stopped talking. Melina could not tell which of the men had won the argument, both looked like they had lost something in those few minutes; she wondered what their history was. Her feet were hurting more than ever, and so she alternated putting her weight on each of them while hoping that all of this would be over soon. _And then what?_ she thought; _when this is over you will most likely be killed or worse, returned to the cruel hands of the Torturer._ But neither of these things happened.

Not long after the men had stopped talking, four giant demons, even bigger than her Torturer, walked in the room. The Devil spoke quickly to them before leaving the room, his strange robes billowing after him. Three of the ugly demons grabbed the man in grey and brutally shoved him out of the room; the last one picked her up, not too gently, and threw her over his shoulder. Away they were taken to an even worse prison than before.

After a billion steps, she was dropped on the freezing stone floor - outside. The Devil them put on the top of the black tower. _It has a top_, she thought ironically, _and its top is even more horrible than its bottom_. Out here, the cold was quick to bite her bare skin, enter her wounds and chill her bones. They were left alone, with no way of escaping, save a narrow path of a gazillion stairs which crawled down the tower; with no rail or protection against the fierce wind.

The man in grey grumbled something under his breath as the demons left them to their fate; he seemed so angry. Melina could not have imagined a worst way to die, atop a hellish tower with a view of the fiery pits below and as a companion, an old man who did not speak her language…how had it come to this?

For the first time since she had appeared in this world; Melina truly wondered at her situation. Why had she appeared here? Perhaps this was hell, and that she had never won, or maybe she had won the wrong thing. Maybe she deserved to be here, to be punished for the bitterness she had displayed in her past life; the one she had never loved or cared to live out. She felt tears slowly falling down her cheeks, leaving cold traces behind them.

Oh how horrible this was, and what more, how horrible it was to think she did indeed deserve it. Live alone to die alone…_again_, she thought. What irony that both her deaths would be spent with another soul; the first, a silly love-sick nurse with which she had never truly talked; the second, a tired old man with whom she could not communicate, even if had she wanted to.

Melina crashed on the freezing black stone; her left side quickly went numb from the cold and she began shivering uncontrollably. The old man, who seemed to have forgotten about her presence for a bit, suddenly rushed to her side…much like that nurse had done, his eyes held the same look as she had too; _what had been her name again?_ Melina stopped breathing; she did not remember the nurse's name!

It now seemed so important to remember her name; the name of the only person to have honestly cared about her…_what a wretched woman I am!_ Yes, she did deserve this fate. She had deserved every single second of it, and she knew this now. She knew it in her heart, and in her mind, and now that she knew this…it was too late. When she caught her breath again, the cold air froze her lungs and caused her to cry even more, her chest hurt so much…_what had been her name!?_

Melina heard a distant voice; talking to her, whispering in her ear, but she paid it no heed. She needed to remember that name, even if it was the last thing she ever did; because that young nurse, that sweet woman, that girl was the one who had truly won. _Yes_, she thought, _Celine had won_; she was a great person, a woman with compassion and love and happiness, someone who would live their life for all it was worth and let nothing go to waste…not even an old dying woman, alone in a nursing home…Melina smiled in the midst of her tears and she wished, with all her heart, that Celine would win, in the end.

"I lost…" she whispered to no one but herself and a very tired old man who collapsed by her side, his white hair tickling her nose; and then she fell asleep.

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Thank you for taking the time to read my story.


	3. Rebirth

**Author's notes: **Enjoy!

**Chapter 3**

"Change is the constant, the signal for rebirth, the egg of the phoenix."  
-Christina Baldwin

The first signs that indicated to Melina that she was still alive were the smell of autumn that filled her lungs with every breath she took and the bright light she could perceive behind her closed eyelids.

Melina's first thought, after registering these signs, was: _Not again!_ Her eyes shot open and, to her surprise, she realized that she was not on top of the dark tower, nor lying on the ground in hell and neither was she in the nursing home…but in some home she definitely was.

She was lying quite comfortably on a large bed under thick, warm blankets. She blinked away the sleep from her eyes and sat up; and she immediately noticed that none of her body parts were hurting. She examined her hands and her nails…nails which had been missing the last time she had checked. She also noticed that her hands were clean, and smelled quite nice.

She then noticed that she was no longer naked; someone had put cloths on her body. And not just any clothes; this was the softest nightgown she had ever worn, and with beautiful patterns intricately embroided into the fabric. She stared at the dress for a few minutes before moving on to examine the rest of the, she noticed immediately, richly decorated room.

Unlike her previous quarters, which had consisted of a rundown house, a butt-ugly nursing home room and a prison cell; these made her feel like a queen. The smooth stone walls were almost entirely covered with various multicoloured tapestries and breathtaking paintings. The room contained a panoply of furniture; aside from the bed she was lying on, she could see a gigantic wardrobe, a dresser with antique toiletries lying on top of it, a huge black chest at the foot of her bed, and a night table. All of this furniture was made out of expensive looking hard wood and all them seemed to have been handcrafted with unique designs.

She saw that someone had left a piece of bread and a glass of water on the night table. After finishing her drink, Melina pushed away the blankets and stood up. Her feet met with a warm furry carpet, where a pair of slippers had been laid. She put them on, they felt heavenly on her small feet, and proceeded to walk around the room.

Melina noticed a window to her right and walked over to it. When she peered out, squinting a little from the sunlight, she froze in awe. She was standing above what looked like an immense medieval city; there were people walking in old style clothes, dirty, happy children were running around, she could even see sentinels wearing bright shining armours and swords while standing guard at the bottom of a large staircase leading up to the building she was in.

Beyond the busy city, Melina could see miles and miles of fields and, on the horizon, forests and mountains. The whole scene seemed surreal, so different than anything she had ever seen…not that she had ever travelled much. She was so lost in contemplation of each and every detail the city had to offer that she did not notice someone had walked into the room until they tapped her shoulder.

She was so startled by the unexpected visitor that she jumped, screamed and tried to hit whoever was behind her. Her fist did not even come close to its intended target but her momentum made her lose her footing, do an about face, and fall backwards. Instead of hitting the ground hard like she expected; she was caught by two strong arms and helped back on her feet. Blushing furiously, Melina turned to the person shyly, her eyes glued to the ground. As soon as she heard the person speak in gibberish with a familiar voice though, her eyes shot up and she recognised the man in grey.

Without knowing why, she could not stop herself from jumping and throwing her arms around him in a tight embrace and she felt tears of unadultered joy run down her face He seemed to be taken by surprise at first, but then his body relaxed and he returned the hug. Melina could not remember the last time she had hugged anyone, or been hugged by anyone for that matter. Perhaps Celine had hugged her body after she had died; the random thought surprised her, but it was also strangely comforting thought. This man though, he was real, warm and even his smell was relaxing; a mix between sweet tobacco, hay and that particular musky smell most men carried. She decided she did not want to move away; staying like this until the next time she died seemed like the best idea in the world…unfortunately, the man did not share her hopes.

After a minute or so, he backed away; a thoughtful expression on his face. _This man has too much on his mind,_ she thought as she wiped away her tears He said something in that strange language she could not understand, or even associate with any language she had ever heard, and pointed to the wardrobe. Confused, Melina followed him to the furniture and peered inside when he opened it. Suddenly, she felt like a 5 year old on Christmas and could not help but giggle excitedly as the man in grey took a beautiful gown out of the wardrobe. She had to stop herself from ripping the dress out of his hands and putting it on immediately; instead she decided to put her hands behind her back and watched impatiently as he brought the dress behind a folding screen.

Next, he returned to the wardrobe and, mumbling under his breath, picked up a pair of brown traveling boots, which he also then placed behind the screen. Melina tried not to laugh at this man, who truly did not look the part of a clothing maid, while he tried to tell her to go change in sign language. She played the part the naïve girl for a bit, truly enjoying toying with this lovely man; but when he acted out the part when she should "take her current dress off" Melina exploded in laughter and ran behind the screen. The poor man huffed in indignation and she heard him sit on the bed.

It took Melina a good hour, and a few grunts of random gibberish from the man in grey, to finally get the night gown off and the new dress on. After finally understanding how the dress was suppose to be worn, she now had much more respect for all those women who once had to live with these every day; no wonder they had maids back then. Melina's mood sunk down quite a bit as soon as she took the nightgown off and noticed the scars. As her eyes began to scan, from her hands up to her shoulder and over her tiny breasts, Melina's head began to feel dizzy. She felt her stomach lurch and her knees weaken as memories flashed through her mind. It took all of her will power, while staring at anything but her own body, for her to keep going.

When she finally reappeared from behind the screen, the man was pacing to and fro in the room. She looked at him with a neutral expression, and he gave her a weak smile before his face became serious again. He mumbled something, motioned for her to follow and left the room. Melina almost had to run to catch up to the man and had to walk quickly to stay in pace with him. She tried to look at her surrounding as much as she could, but with their fast pace and the few collisions she had with the man or certain statues, she decided to look in front instead.

They walked through a series of corridors, each one as richly decorated as the last and Melina wondered at the size of the house they were in…it seemed more like a mansion of some sort. _The money it must have took to build this_, she thought. The chandeliers hanging from the ceiling were all made out of gold and silver, the carpet covering the floor was dark red with golden patterns woven into it; but the most spectacular room was yet to come. When they entered the throne room, Melina stopped dead in her tracks. The first thing she noticed was the throne itself where an old weary man sat, wearing a beautiful golden crown. She did not linger long on him, for he began to speak with the man in grey and she had no hope of understanding their conversation.

Instead she slowly turned around and examined each corner of the room. It was huge, at least three times bigger than her bedroom and the ceiling was much higher. There were paintings on the walls, some depicted scenes of battles, other portraits of past Kings, and others yet showed glorious horses of every colour and size. _Horses_, she thought, s_eemed to be the predominant theme in this castle_. She had seen a few paintings of them in her room and many more in the corridors. There had even been horses carved on the wardrobe now that she thought of it. Even the huge banners, which showed the colours and emblem of this castle, had two majestic horses in the middle of them.

Melina was brought out of her horse reverie when she realized that the conversation between the men had turned sour. She turned to see the man in grey being yelled at by the King...no...by someone else. Melina quietly walked by the man in grey's side, her eyes focused on the short and ugly man who had just spoken. She had not noticed him before; all clad in black he was, with black hair and ugly eyes. His voice, when listened to, gave her chills and she unconsciously took a few steps backwards and behind the man in grey.

The ugly man shot her a terrible glare, bared his black teeth in a ridiculous, but terrible, smile, and spoke to the man in grey. She noticed the man in grey tensed in front of her and he seemed like he was about to say something to the ugly man, but the old King cut in. It seemed to be painful for the King to speak; Melina wondered how the man was even still alive. Nevertheless, the man in grey seemed to take the King's word seriously and Melina could see that he was not pleased with the situation...whatever it might be.

After a lengthy, and seemingly painful speech, the King ended his statement with a wave of his arm and three soldiers appeared out of nowhere, circling them. Melina let out a weak squeak of terror and grabbed hold of the man in grey's arm. He looked down at her and the anger melted from his face, replaced by resignation. They were led, or rather forced to walk out, of the castle by the guards. As soon as they were out and left alone, the man in grey grumbled under his breath and headed down the stairs of the castle. Melina struggled to keep up with him as they quickly made their way down to the city gates. Whatever hopes she had of seeing the city dissipated as she noticed the evil and fearful glares most of the citizens were shooting them while they walked by.

All of a sudden she felt they could not walk fast enough to get out there. They arrived at the city gate 10 minutes or so later and were led out of the city by more guards. The plains Melina had thought beautiful from her room now seemed barren and uninviting…but they also seemed to be their destination.

Her companion said something and then laughed; Melina raised an eyebrow and glanced at him, was he also insane? He coughed and composed himself quickly, but a large grin lingered on his face. She could not help smiling back, there was just something about this man..._and now I sound like a love sick teenager_, she thought,_ brilliant_. Though in truth, that is what she was now, at least physically...she clenched her jaw and pushed the thoughts to the back of her mind, now was not the time to linger on these things. Though what it was the time for, she did not know. To her utter surprise, her ever grey companion started to whistle as he began walking towards an unknown destination.

_That's it_, she thought, _this man has lost it_; but she did not have any brighter idea then to follow the mad man.

-"Where are we going?" she asked, but knew it was useless; he did not understand her. The man in grey turned his head slightly towards her and shook it, indicating that indeed, her language was gibberish to him. She sighed loudly and stomped after him.

They walked for a short while and Melina was surprised to see a building in the plains, outside the city walls. It looked like a huge barn, but as they got closer, she realized it was a stable for horses. There were about a hundred horses of various colours and sizes running in the fields around the stable and each one looked healthy and strong. The guards at the stable seemed to have been expecting them, for he spoke quickly with her companion and pointed towards the horses.

Her companion did not hesitate and immediately headed towards the fields; Melina wanted to linger back for a bit and relax, but when she noticed the soldier glaring at her she quickly caught up with the man in grey. What was wrong with all these people anyway? But she was prevented to think on it any more when she heard a muffled scream and looked out to see her companion falling on his back like a plank; a roused silver horse barely missing the man's head when its hoofs fell back to the ground. Melina broke into a run just as the huge stallion sprinted into the other direction.

When she arrived to the man, who had not moved since his fall, Melina thought she was going to slap him. Her heart was pumping fast, she had been afraid for him! And what was he doing? Laughing! She was too offended to help him up, but had to chuckle when she noticed that all of his back was covered in grass and dirt. He looked so ridiculous that she had to dust him off even though she was still mad at him; she even picked up his blue hat that lay pathetically on the ground. When she was done getting rid of most of the offending dirt, her companion turned to face her, bowed his head ever so slightly, took his hat from her and pointed towards the stable. Melina frowned, what now? Again he pointed to the building and made a shooing movement with his hands.

She frowned even more, he was leaving her?

The man, seemingly satisfied with his explanation, shoved his hat back on, turned around and began walking away…she followed him. But she had not taken ten steps when the man turned around and held out his hand. She stopped again, shook her head and raised her shoulders to indicate that she did not understand. The man pointed towards her and then to the stable, and repeated the movement. Melina looked back at the building with the guard that hated her, and hung her head in resignation. She now felt like a love sick puppy that did not understand the "stay" command.

She turned around and walked back towards the building; mid-way there, she stopped and looked back. The man was still standing there; he waved to her and walked away. She sighed and continued her short walk to the establishment. Once there, she looked back and was surprised to see that the old man had already disappeared from the horizon, he was faster than she thought.

With nothing better to do than to explore her immediate surroundings, Melina walked in and around the stable; occasionally petting a horse. The guard seemed to have decided to ignore her, for which she was glad. The last thing she needed was someone staring at her to make her feel even more unwanted. The stable was fairly big, no horses were residing inside during this time of day and she could see that the building was kept incredibly clean.

There were a few more guards inside the building that she had not noticed before; they seemed a bit friendlier than the one outside and even nodded their heads when she passed them. She smiled at them and returned the greetings before moving on. As she roamed around the building, she tried her hardest to not think about anything, but it was easier said than done. So many questions were left unanswered, with no way for her to even ask them to anyone. The only person that seemed to know what was going on had just left her and also did not understand her.

One important question was: where on earth was she? She had never believed in any particular religion, but she knew that some people believed that your soul went to a purgatory to wait for the final judgment. This seemed to have been her case; and if she kept with that train of thought, she was now free of the purgatory and preparing to live an eternal life…somewhere. She wondered if all these people around her had gone through the same thing she had. _So many questions_, she thought; she really needed to learn this language.

After what she thought was about two hours of aimless walking, she felt surprisingly tired; her new body was not as sturdy as she had first thought. Luckily, she found a sitting area with tables where two guards were already seated. She sat as far away from them as possible, so as not to disturb them or seem to want to engage in conversation. It worked, they looked at her, but quickly returned to whatever conversation they were having and she was left alone. Melina yawned loudly and blushed, maybe if she just rested her head on the table…and closed her eyes, just to relax a little.

She fell asleep seconds later.

* * *

Thanks for reading!

* * *


	4. Roads

**Author's Notes: **I'd like to thank all those that reviewed the other chapters, and the ones that will review this one. Your comments are encouraging and very much appreciated. I try to answer all of you personally, I apologize if I missed anyone. kisses and cookies to all of you. Please point out any mean grammar mistake I might have, I try my best to rid my story of them, but I am far from being perfect, and I know they can be a huge story-flow killer.

Thank you to the annon. reviewer Eiluj for pointing out some nasty grammar problems. As for the water thing, good observation. I will have to re-read this chapter and the 3rd & 5th one again to see where I can add some of that.

Without further delays:

**Chapter 4**

"Two roads diverged in a wood, and I--  
I took the one less traveled by,  
And that has made all the difference."  
-Robert Frost (1874 - 1963)

When Melina woke up again, she was alone at the table; she noticed that the light filtering in the stable did not seem as bright as when she had fallen asleep. _The sun must be setting_, she thought. Looking around the empty stable, she wondered if the soldiers ever brought the horses inside. She got up from the wooden table with a terrible cramp in her back, but ignored it for the time being…she really needed to pee. She walked out to the back of the building and relieved herself quickly; afraid a guard might come by and see her. She sighed in pleasure as relief washed over her.

-"Well, what now?" she said out loud to herself and put her hands on her hips as she grinned and looked around for the answer.

Not finding anything resembling an answer out there, Melina decided to walk back to the front of the stable. While doing so, she noticed that the sun was actually ascending in the sky and not descending. How long had she actually been asleep on that table, a whole day and night? She grunted to herself, where was the man in grey? The guard at the front of the stable had been changed sometime during the night and did not seem to like her more than his predecessor had.

Wondering what she was going to do now, Melina rubbed her growling stomach, maybe a quest for food was in order. As she re-entered the stable, barely noticing the smell of horse manure and hay, she noticed that two more guards were sitting and eating breakfast. Her pride screamed at her to not go begging for food, but her body countered the argument with a very loud and painful gurgle… she headed to the table with a mission. Sitting down as gracefully as she could, and very close to one of the guards, Melina smiled sweetly before starring intently at his food.

They both tried their hardest to ignore her for a few minutes, but when she nuzzled a bit closer to the soldier and batted her eyelashes furiously, he gave in and handed her a piece of his bread and dried meat. The two items disappeared as soon as she had her hands on them; the trick was worthy of a magic show.

Now somewhat satiated, Melina sat back and thought about her next course of action. What if the man in grey had indeed left her here all alone? Where would she go? Then again, if he was never coming back, why were these soldiers not kicking her out of their stable? Maybe the man had told them he was going to come back for her after he did whatever it was he needed to do...like run after an insane horse...

-"I'm doomed." She said and dropped her head on the table. The guards glanced in her direction and then whispered something to each other; _they think I'm crazy_, she thought.

_He has to come back_, she thought. _I just need to be patient, wait here, and hope that I am still allowed one more miracle_.

And so Melina waited at the table for a while; when her buttocks protested at their over use, she waited with the horses; when her feet decided not to support her anymore, she waited in a hay stack; and waited some more as she received dinner. When the sun began to set, Melina had all but given up, except she still had not figured out what she was going to do all by herself.

She knew so little of this place, wherever it was, she was not even sure this was on earth...anything was possible now. After all, she had resurrected twice, was now in her 20 year old body and had seen demons with her own eyes.

She lingered with the soldiers as they gathered the horses and led them into the stable, an event she must have slept through the day before and considered her options. Leaving that very night was out of the question; who knew what dangers lurked out there in the day, let alone in the dark. She would have to wait until the morning to leave, if in fact she decided to leave. _I could go back to the city_, she thought, _they could not possibly refuse to help a poor lost and confused woman…could they?_ And if the man in grey did return to find her missing, the guards would tell him in which direction she had left and he would come looking for her in town; she was almost certain of this…almost.

After the last horse had entered the stables, the soldiers locked the doors and settled down at the table around a candle. Melina watched them from a distance, having made a crude bed out of a pile of hay; _better than the table_, she thought. The soldiers were all young enough, probably in the beginning of their military service; all of them were handsome and, she noticed, all blond. Her own hair was as dark as the night.

As she slowly succumbed to sleep, she decided to wait for the man in grey until noon the next day, and if he was not back by then, she would leave.

The next morning, she awoke with hay all over her body; in her hair, her dress, her back, her shoes...everywhere! It stung, hitched and stank; she cursed herself for ever thinking hay was better than wood! It took her the better part of the morning to remove each and every straw from her body, which earned her quite a few giggles from the morning guards, but they still offered her breakfast...with a smile this time. She sat down at the table with the two off duty guards and listened to their strange speech. They laughed at incomprehensible jokes and talked more often with their hands than their mouths.

Melina suddenly felt very old, for the first time since she had woken up with the man in grey, it dawned on her that, though she had a younger body, her soul was old. It had seemed like such a blessing at first, to be allowed a second chance at this puzzling adventure they called life, but it was also a lot harder than she remembered. Especially now, alone and expected to take care of herself…she had never been forced to do anything on her own before. Spoiled is what she had been; and looking at these young men, enrolled in a military service, looking so happy, she realized that she had never been happy at their age. She had been to engrossed in trivial things, never truly realizing what a delicious gift life could be if handled properly; she promised herself that she would do all in her power to become like those men; happy.

Leaving the guards to their chat, Melina decided to get some fresh air and clear her head. The sun was now almost at its zenith, soon she would have to make a choice. She could see the city in the distance; it would not be difficult to make it there on her own. For a few minutes, she just stood still; starring at the horizon and thinking about her strange attachment to the man in grey. _He is my online lifeline in this strange place,_ she thought. That enough would attach anybody; but there was something else, and she knew it, though she decided not to dwell on it. Thinking about the first time she had met the man in grey would only lead to thinking about the Devil and thinking about the Devil...Melina shook her head furiously; _bad, bad train of thoughts. _

-"How did I ever think I had luck?" she mumbled.

With that in mind, Melina resolved to return to the city. She may be cursed, but she was going to try everything in her power to change that, this was a whole new life after all. She began to walk, slowly at first and then with more determination. None of the guards stopped her, or offered to escort her, or showed any sign that they noticed her departure. This saddened her a little, but she kept her head up and marched as fast as her feet could carry her. The afternoon sun was warm, but not overly hot; the ground under her feet was a crude road which seemed to lead to the city; why had the man in grey not taken this road, she wondered but could not fathom the reason.

After she had walked for two hours or so, the city did not look any closer than when she had set out, she decided to pause and sit for a while. She felt slightly awkward and exposed, sitting alone in an empty field, but her feet were thankful for the break. Melina had not been sitting for 5 minutes when she heard the sound of a horse running on the road. Turning her head towards the direction of the sound, raising her hand to shield her eyes from the sun, she saw a rider approaching her at a break-neck speed. Not wanting to be caught off guard, Melina stood up, brushed her backside, and waited for the man to overtake her.

She did not recognize the rider at first, but as soon as he was close enough, she let out a startled cry...it was the man in grey, ridding that accursed animal he had set out after. A strange and warm feeling filled her belly and she could not stop a small grin from creeping on her lips; he had come back. The horse slowed to a trot as he got closer, though he was wearing neither bit nor saddle; and when he was close enough, the horse stopped and its rider offered her his hand. She hesitated, looking into his sparkling blue eyes and silly smile; there really was no reason for her to trust him.

But even as those thoughts formed in her minds, she took his hand and was pulled up in front of him. The feeling of the horse's bare back under her was new and exhilarating, as well as frightening. Her skirt, though wide enough to let her sit on the horse, made her feel slightly exposed in this position; Melina fumbled with it for a moment, trying to cover her legs as best as possible.

The man waited until she was comfortable before slipping one hand around her abdomen, her muscles constricted at the unexpected touch and she closed her eyes, fighting the urge to push his arm away.

_The blade, shining brightly as it descended slowly towards her exposed body_.

She took a few deep breaths to try to calm herself and swallowed down her breakfast, which menaced to resurface. The man seemed to be aware of her struggle, and though he did not remove his arm, he eased the pressure on her stomach and waited until she was as comfortable as can be before setting the horse on a sprint.

The sudden movement from the horse jerked her body backwards and she was pressed against the warm body behind her. The touch was unwanted, but there was little she could do about it. Melina felt helpless, there was no reason for her to fear this man, but this simple physical contact was making her cringe. She had never been good when dealing with the opposite sex, but she had never been terrified of them either. Of course, that had been before the Tower…and the rapes.

Squeezing her eyes close, she dug her fingers into the horse's mane and clutched the soft hair tightly. With her head bowed forward, Melina tried to prevent the tears from falling, but she only managed to choke a few times before abandoning herself to her sobs. The body behind her did not budge, there was nothing he could do, her rational mind told her; but her heart did not want to hear rationality at the moment. She ached and was torn between the need to be comforted and the pain she associated with the man's touch.

Melina sobbed for what seemed like hours. For the first time since she had woken up in the castle, everything she had thought able to put behind her came crashing on her mind and the enormity of what she had been through dawned on her. A deep feeling of despair settled in her breast and she realized that she would not be able to simply forget about what had happened to her and move on.

She cried for a long time still before sleep claimed her exhausted body and her mind fell into a restless slumber.

* * *

_The Torturer was looming over her naked body, she screamed and screamed, but no one could hear her...and no one would help her. She could feel his cold hand on her abdomen, right next to her belly button, simply lying there; reminding her that her body belonged to him in this room. She saw the shining blade in his hand, the way he moved it in front of her eyes, showing it off while he smiled at her. He traced the contoured of her left breast, not cutting the skin, but simply stroking it with the cold steel._

_ Her breathing increased and she screamed again, but her voice was hoarse and she began coughing, pushing her chest forward unintentionally. The movement caught the Torturer off guard and the blade slipped and sliced her chest, just above her left breast. She hissed at the unexpected pain and tears began flowing out of her eyes. She heard the demon chuckle to himself before he returned to his task. He left her line of vision and there was a moment of complete silence before a sudden wave of pain erupted in her abdomen, right next to his hand. She tried screaming, but nothing came out of her mouth; she could not breathe...she was suffocating...she was dying..._

* * *

Melina gasped for breath and as soon as she realized that her hands were not bound anymore, she clutched at the demon's hand lying on her abdomen. But he was strong and though she dug her nails in his skin hard enough to make them bleed, he did not budge. She opened her eyes in order to face her opponent…only to be faced with a breathtaking view of gorgeous mountains in the distance and, closer to her, the silver head of a horse. Looking down at her stomach, she saw the bloody hand of the man in grey still encircling her body, thus preventing her from falling over.

Comprehension and guilt hit her like a slap across the face and she covered her face in shame. She whispered a hundred apologies, though he could not understand any of them; she felt renewed tears burn her eyes and her body shook silently. This time though, the man reacted to her distress; Melina felt his hand tightened protectively on her abdomen and his other hand came to rest on her left shoulder. She brought both her hands to cover the one on her stomach and pressed it hard, needing to be hugged more than anything else in the world.

He answered her unspoken wish and slipped his other arm across her shoulder and pulled her close in an awkward, but comforting embrace. She could feel his beard tickling her neck and she breathed in his soothing scent. Her breathing stabilized, and the tears slowly stopped flowing. Melina relaxed in his arms; as soon as she felt strong enough to face another day, the arm around her shoulders pulled back, though the one on her stomach remained. Her body protested at the loss of warmth and comfort, but she kept quiet; h_e was probably not comfortable with the situation either_, she thought.

-"Thank you," she whispered, her voice sounding coarse from the sobbing.

She knew he did not understand her and that whatever she said would be useless, but she had needed to say it.

She heard him say something to her, and though she did not understand, she was grateful. She had never examined the importance of speech before; but now that she was in a world where she could not communicate, she realized that having someone speak to her made her her feel more human, more normal. It was a difficult feeling to explain; but to have him address her, acknowledge her presence with speech, felt like she had achieved a great victory.

He spoke for a while, and she tried to imagine what he might be telling her. Maybe he was explaining why the white Devil had been so mad at him; or why the King of the horse city had kicked them out. Or he might be recalling the adventure he had with the horse they were now ridding...how he had run after it for two days, not giving up until he had tamed the savage beast.

As the sun kept rising in the sky, and the mountains in the distance steadily grew larger, Melina's body slowly awoken…and it was not happy. She was beginning to lose sensation in her buttocks, her bladder needed relief and her stomach was growling loudly for food. The man had stopped talking a while ago, she had hoped that he was looking for a place to rest for a bit, but the horse had yet to stop. She grumbled to herself and cranked her neck to have a look at the man behind her.

He smiled, but his expression changed into a frown when he noticed her glare. He seemed to understand her distress after she pointed at her belly and rubbed it lightly, brushing his hand as she did so; he said something in that beautiful, but unknown language. The horse stopped his mad run, almost as if he had understood whatever the man had said. No sooner had the beast stopped running that Melina jumped off the tall horse and ran behind the first bush she saw. After relieving herself, she slowly walked back to where the horse was waiting; as she did so, she stretched her sore limbs and rubbed her numbed buttocks.

Now that one of her needs was fulfilled, she wondered about food…had they even brought any provisions with them? Her question was answered when she arrived by the horse and a piece of bread was shoved in her face. She looked up at the man, he was smiling at her and she took it happily. He helped her on the horse again and off they were again, ever getting closer to the mountains that were now quite huge on the horizon.

Later that day, they passed the mountains altogether and they were far behind them in the evening. She was only allowed one more stop after the sun had set that night, and she was also given another piece of bread accompanied, to her great satisfaction, by fresh water. They rode, as far as she could tell between her periods of restless sleep, all night long and continued to do so in the morning. Her companion neither ate nor relieved himself when they stopped; she saw him drink water on a few occasions, but nothing more. For some reason she almost felt jealous of him for this. When she use to be his age, or at least living in a body much like his, her needs had only increased, not decreased. And even now, as a young and somewhat healthy woman, he seemed sturdier than she.

They rode for the entire day and night again; Melina wondered how the horse could endure such pace; but, like a billion other questions she had about this world, she could not find an answer. She shook her head to stop her mind from thinking about these unanswerable questions and felt the man's beard tickle her neck. She shied away at the unexpected feeling and heard him mumble something. She turned her neck to glance at him and saw that he was pointing at himself and he repeated the same words again.

Word, she corrected herself, he was only speaking one word. Melina frowned in concentration, was he trying to tell her his name? She listened as he pronounced it a few more times…Gon..no…Ga…Ndal…ve? She growled quietly, maybe learning this language would be somewhat harder than she had expected. What hope did she have of learning it if she could not even learn one person's name? She had not noticed he had stopped repeating his name until she felt his hand on her shoulder, urging her to try. She cleared her throat and made her first attempt.

-"Gandalf?" she said timidly.

He smiled and nodded, seemingly happy that she had at least tried to say his name. She smiled back and repeated the name to herself a few times, her ears getting use to the sound of it and her mouth to its feel. She decided it would be kind to return the favour and, pointing at herself as he had done, she said her own name a few times. Gandalf seemed to understand, but frowned slightly; she concluded that it was because the name sounded very strange to him.

"Melina" he said with a hint of pride in his eyes.

She nodded, but felt a pang a jealousy grip her heart…he seemed to have gotten the hang of her name with such ease…while she had butchered his. Oh well; now at least, she knew his name. She turned her body forward again and took a deep breath; perhaps she was going to get through this after all. The sun was rising in the distance onto a terrain that was very different from the plains they had left behind. There were more trees here, more bushes and flowers as well. Though they seemed to be traveling by some public road, they had yet to meet any other travelers since they had left the stables. She had the feeling that it was better that way though; Gandalf seemed to be in a hurry to get to his destination.

Her buttocks were beginning to go numb again, and she feared she would soon not feel them at all. How long would they go on ridding like this…were they nearing their destination? What exactly was this destination…would she be welcomed there? Or would they look at her like they had done back in the horse city? Melina shuddered unconsciously; what would happen to her indeed.

It was pas mid-day when Melina began to hear sound of a flowing river. The sound grew louder for a long time until finally the river came into view. It was a large and tumultuous river, and there were no bridge to be seen. Their horse ran up to the shore, slowed to a trot and walked up and down for a few minutes, as if calculating his odds. Melina felt queasy, were they really going to risk drowning in this river?

She cranked her neck to look at her companion, but he was smiling calmly; not that it reassured her since she had come to the conclusion that he was slightly nuts. _Well,_ she thought,_ this is going to be fun_. The thoughts had barely formed in her head before she felt the horse sink under her as it entered the river. Melina clutched the horse's mane as she saw the water rising rapidly, was the horse tall enough for this? She felt Gandalf place a comforting hand on her back, but she was too tense to feel grateful.

The water finally stopped rising a few seconds later, and she held her breath as the horse struggled against the strong currents. She could feel the freezing water biting into her traveling boots and soaking the hem of her skirt. Against all odds, the horse never once lost its footing and in a moment's time, though not soon enough for Melina, they arrived on the other side. As if answering her prayer, the horse did not resume its mad run once it was ashore; instead it stopped and grazed a few blades of grass. Melina, not wanting to miss her chance, jumped off the horse and went to relieve herself in the nearby forest.

She did not risk walking in to deep into the thick woods, but far enough as to be hidden from view. She lingered back a bit after she was done, trying to dry her dress and boots. She opted for taking off the dress completely and shaking it in the wind a bit before putting it on again. Not a great improvement, but it felt slightly better. The boots were hopeless though, and they still sloshed loudly when she walked back. _Classy,_ she thought.

When she came out of the bushes, she saw that they were not alone anymore. A new rider, sitting on an elegant white horse, had appeared out of no where and he was now conversing with Gandalf. Melina approached them slowly, though any hope to be quiet was botched by her boots. When she got close enough to her companion, the stranger turned to face her and Melina stopped in her track; shocked by the man's unspoiled beauty.

Unlike Gandalf, this man had no beard and his hair was devoid of grey; he was young, or at least he looked very young…Melina frowned, she was unable to put an age to the man; almost like her inability to put an age on Gandalf. The stranger was tall and fair, his eyes were grey and incredibly sharp. They made eye contact for a few seconds, but for Melina if felt like time stopped. If she had met demons and devils when she first arrived in this blasted world, then this had to be an angel.

Everything about him was angelic, and for a moment she thought she saw such an aura about him that would illuminated even the darkest of souls. She saw strength and wisdom in those deep grey pools, the sheer power that emanated from him shook her entire body with an unnamed emotion and her eyes welled up with confusing tears and she stopped breathing. When the man finally turned back to her companion, the spell was broken and she was left feeling like an empty shell, stripped of whatever beauty she had witnessed for that magical second.

Melina took a deep, shaky breath and turned away from the conversing men while she tried to compose herself again. When she was finally able to feel her knees again and her hands stopped shivering, she tried to listen to the men conversing for a few minutes; and wondered if she was the topic of their discussion.

_You're not that important old girl,_ she thought…_they are probably talking of matters much more important than a poor lost woman, _at least so she hoped. But, after just a few minutes of speaking, they looked at her and she felt as if they had come to some sort of decision…this time regarding her personally.

For once hating being right, Melina began to panic when Gandalf, from his position on the horse, laid a hand on her head, his fingers entwining in her bushy hair; he then bent down towards her and whispered something she was not able to understand…frustration rose in her heart, and panic. In the midst of her increasing heart beat, shallow breath and flowing tears, she forced her mind to burn those words into memory so that one day she would understand them. And then he was gone…just like that; he sat up straight again, nodded towards the stranger and motioned his horse to a mad sprint, leaving her behind.

She took a step in his direction, the crazy thought of running after him fading away quickly as the distance between them grew rapidly. Despite herself, Melina felt more tears flowing down her cheeks as his figure disappeared on the road. Why was he abandoning her, where would she go now, all alone; would she ever see him again? The last words he had spoken to her had been soft and gentle, and she hoped that she had seen care in his eyes, but now he was gone…again.

She was startled out of her reverie when a hand, belonging to the forgotten stranger, appeared in front of her. Melina looked up and saw that he was inviting her to join him on his horse…_not again,_ she thought. She glanced back to the horizon, nurturing the hope that Gandalf would reappear, that it had been a mistake, or a sick prank, or whatnot; but somehow she knew that he would not.

Her world, the world she had been beginning to build in her soul, the stability that she had been nurturing while ridding with the man in grey, shattered. She felt a strange emotion well up inside of her, something she had never even known she could feel for the prerequisites for it were love and trust; she felt betrayed. For once in her life, or her three lives, she had truly believed that someone had cared about her, had wanted to help her and love her; but now she had been dumped like an unwanted burden and it hurt. And oh god she could not breathe, her chest was on fire and her knees buckled; she fell to the ground.

Melina felt the earth under her spinning, her eyes were having a hard time focusing on anything, she sat back on her knees and panic gripped the last sensible part of her mind. Images began spinning in front of her; there in the bush the Torturer, to her left the Devil, all around her the sound of screams and demonic laughter. She gripped her head, it was hurting , pounding; she closed her eyes, but the spinning would not stop. Everything was falling apart, she could feel it! She was left alone again, back in the hands of her torturers with only pain and suffering as companions.

_Another night, or was it day, left starving and parched in her cell. She had dreamt though, a nice dream this time. A dream of escape and beauty and warmth...and then it had turned into a nightmare of despair and loneliness. She hated herself for having dreamt such a nice dream only to wake up here again, there was no escape from this place. The Devil was standing besides her now, talking and talking and talking. _

But then...then there was another voice. Melina could not remember such a gentle, musical voice in the Tower. Alone in her dark, stinky cell, she suddenly heard it, and soon...oh yes, soon she saw it! She was going crazy, sanity was slipping from her tired fingers and it was getting harder and harder to ignore this shining light that was calling her name. She reached out, her fingers brushing against something warm and soft, she could hear the Devil screaming after her, but it was easy to block him out. She felt a large and warm hand cover her own, and all of a sudden the dark cell disappeared and she was back on the ground, in the wilderness, looking straight into the grey eyes of an angel. She took a deep breath, the air was sweet, warm, and filled with the scent of the being in front of her.

Gandalf, she thought, Gandalf was gone. In his place was this new man, gentle, warm and yet, Melina realized as the stranger quickly moved away from her as soon as she had returned to reality, very distant. Deprived yet again of his comforting light, Melina shivered. She watched the tall, slender man leap onto his horse gracefully, and for the second time that day, he offered her his hand. Melina realized that there was only one option left for her, she could barely survive this world with a companion, she doubted being able to survive it alone. Surrendering to fate, Melina slowly got up, dusted her muddy dress, and took the offered help.

As soon as she was settled in front of him, the man spoke in a soft voice and his horse sprang into a run. The white horse, Melina now realized, was decorated with tiny bells which, when shaken by the horse's movements, emitted a sound very pleasing to the ear. Fortunately for her sore body they were not going as fast as she had with Gandalf; though this new horse still showed incredible stamina. _Or maybe,_ she thought, _I just don't know anything about horses…_They rode for the rest of the day, and did not stop for the night. Melina was lost in her thoughts and barely noticed the change in scenery around her. The slip of her mind earlier frightened her to no end, she had truly believed and felt that she had returned to the Tower. Would this sort of thing happen often? Nightmares were one thing, but difficulty to remain in the present reality while wide awake was another, more terrible problem.

The sun went down without her realizing and soon everything was black. Night, darkness…all things she had begun to hate recently. In the darkness it was difficult to see; you never knew what was out there…who was out there. Maybe it was a friend, like Gandalf…or maybe it was someone else, someone who wanted to hurt you, who loved to hurt you and laughed at your pain…maybe it was the Torturer. She could see him everywhere in the darkness.

He was behind that tree to her right, in front of their path, he was behind her on the horse; leading her into a trap…he was in her mind and every time she closed her eyes she could see him, smell him, and feel his hot breath on her naked body as he mutilated her. She had thought that staying awake would keep her aggressors at bay, but they remained still and ever grew closer. Her body was weak and getting weaker; she felt so tired and her eyelids kept falling by themselves.

As much as her mind tried to keep her awake, her body tried to go to sleep. The result was a night of half-sleep, constant nightmares and not one second of rest. This went on for a good part of the night and she could feel the man behind her tense whenever she awoke from the ongoing nightmares. Was he worried about her? Did he even know what had happened to her…how could he? She was not even sure Gandalf knew all that had happened. Her eyes began to fill with tears at the thought of the man who had left her a few hours earlier. Did she already miss him that much?

_What is wrong with me_…

She could go an entire lifetime without getting attached to anyone at all and manage to die alone.

_But in this world I meet one man and a few days later feel devastated by his departure?_

The renewed feeling of despair that washed over her took her by surprise and she began to sob uncontrollably. Memories of the past few months flowed freely in her mind; Celine, the Devil, the torture…the man she had seen die on the table next to hers; how she had cried for him for weeks following his death; a man she had not known and felt horrible for it…he had died alone and had not deserved to…Melina remembered the rapes; in her old life she had never had any partners, she had died unmarried and untouched by a man…and then the Torturer had done terrible things to her. She clutched her abdomen tightly and struggled to catch her breath amongst her tears.

And then she remembered the day she had met him; the man in grey. How much pain and sorrow she had seen in his eyes, how surprised she had felt that anyone could look so concerned for her. She remembered that she had wanted to take away his pain, that she had wanted to tell him none of it had been his fault…she had never felt such compassion for anyone, let alone a complete stranger. What an idiot she had been…for so long, for a lifetime…and it had taken months of torture to make her realize just how selfish she had been, not only with others, but with herself as well. She did not deserve this second chance.

And now she was alone again; he had left her to go on with whatever mission he had to do…and she missed him. She felt cold, even the warmth of the body behind her did not seem to penetrate the frost that was taking over. Along with her sobs, Melina's body began shivering uncontrollably, waves of nausea came and went as the horse galloped, up and down, up and down. An awkward hand found its way on her forehead, the pressure of this gentle touch was enough to throw her off balance and she collapsed against the man behind her. His hand left her face and instead gripped her small body tightly and she heard him speak in his strange, but beautiful language. Under her the horse seemed sprung by renewed vigor and began accelerating, how it could see in the darkness, she knew not.

Pondering the unanswerable question was her last thought before drifting into oblivion.


	5. Learning

**Author's note:** And on to the fifth!

**Chapter 5**

"Learning is not compulsory... neither is survival."  
-W. Edwards Deming (1900 - 1993)

The next time Melina regained consciousness, the sun was high in the sky and she was horrified to find out that her condition was deteriorating. Her vision was hazy, her mouth dry, she could smell the acidic scent of bile on her dress...she must have thrown up during the night. Her hair was pasted to her sweaty face, her dress was also drenched in cold sweat and though she realized her temperature must be sky rocketing, she felt terribly cold.

Trees and swamps and flowers and bushes zoomed past her at an incredible speed, making her nausea worse than ever. There was another pain as well, many strange pains in fact; all over her body she felt the burning sensation of blades digging and cutting into her soft flesh, but she could see no knives. She could hear strange voices as well: deep, evil whispers filled her ears and from the corner of her eyes she saw dark figures watching her.

Melina felt it again, despair, a deep and dark feeling that settled in her broken heart, because she realized at that moment, that she was going insane. She was having difficulty separating vision with reality, truth with lies. She felt the man behind her, cradling her broken shell, whispering in her burning ear, but he felt so distant. She was still in this strange half way trance when the sun set, but with the growing darkness, her grip on reality faded even faster. She knew she was sick, in mind and in body, and for the nth time since she had arrived in this world, Melina wished for death. Once and for all she wanted her pain to be over, had she not suffered enough for her sins? She doubted her body could take any more pain, any more hurt, any more or anything. She was welcoming the strange darker than dark blackness that was creeping in her vision.

There was no more pain, no more nightmares, no more nothing. It was all left behind as she walked into this comfortable, soft, even plushy, darkness.

* * *

After what she would later call "The Blackout", Melina remembered waking up on two different occasions, before fully regaining consciousness. The memories were strange, as if she was watching a movie in which she was starring, though she felt nothing of what her body seemed to be going through.

The first time she awoke, she was in the arms of the blond man. He had one hand under her neck and the other under her knees. They were standing still, she could see trees above her, most of which were loosing their colourful leaves as a sweet breeze swept through them. The air was clean here, and smelled of nectar and delicious food. She could hear whispers around her, many of them...not demons though, no, angels. A dozen or more of them she figured, though she could only see the gentle face of the blond stranger, looking down at her with a...yes, a smile on his serene face.

Melina smiled back, though when she did she felt an intense and searing pain in her abdomen, she screamed. The blond man dropped to his knees and laid her on the ground, she could see more people around her now; lo! how they looked beautiful in their long robes, all of them, angels. But the increasing pain kept her from lingering her eyes on them any longer, she closed her eyes shut to fight against the pain, and then she knew no more.

The second time she emerged from oblivion, Melina was lying down on a bed, and a black haired angel and looking straight at her. He was surrounded by the purest light she had ever seen, his grey eyes were sharp and seemed to be on fire, like diamonds. She could feel both of his warm hands on each side of her skull, forcing her to look at him. He spoke to her, long and musical words, almost like a chant. And then, to her eternal surprise, her bent over slightly and kissed her forehead. His lips were warm and soft, his breath sweet, she felt tears of relief fill her eyes; something inside her lifted, like a giant weight she had not realized she carried. When, after a long moment, his lips parted from her head and he sat up again, Melina saw a smile on his godly face as he whispered something to her.

And finally, for perhaps the first time since she had entered this world, she fell in a true restful sleep.

* * *

Soft, warm, peaceful...these and more Melina perceived as she lazily awoke from possibly the best night of sleep anyone had ever had. Her body felt heavy, but was not hurting any more, the air she breathed was clean and incredibly refreshing. Melina opened her eyes slowly after she turned on her left side and buried herself deeper in the giant blanket covering her. There was someone moving about in her room, a woman. Melina might have felt troubled or frightened, but she felt too good to be bothered with such exhausting emotions. She watched the maiden come to and fro, carrying now some folded clothes, then a churn of water. The woman looked young, her hair was long and a stunning tone of brown, her face was perfect and Melina could hear her humming when she came close enough to the bed. The room she had slept in was large, and airy; in fact it seemed that the wall she was facing was more of an open archway than a proper wall. Outside the arch she could see many trees, trees of every colour imaginable, and amongst these were houses and corridors and stairs.

Returning her eyes to the room, Melina was beginning to think she liked this place. Unlike the castle in which she had woken up after meeting Gandalf, this room was very organic, though just as richly decorated. There was a statue of a woman left of the archway and on the right was a long tapestry depicting a giant golden tree. Closer to the bed, where the maiden was now putting down a few accessories, was a vanity topped with a mirror; both were made out of wood which had been intricately decorated with beautiful carvings. The vanity sat against the left wall of the room, close to her bed, though separated by what seemed to be a window with long white curtains that moved slowly with the autumn breeze.

The maiden stirred again as she finished arranging the combs and trinkets on the vanity, most of which Melina could not see. She moved so gracefully across the room, like an ethereal being that barely touched the ground; no sound came from her soft shoes as she walked, only her robes ruffling betrayed her reality. Melina watched as she disappeared into another archway on the right of the room, across the vanity and the bed she was lying in. Fully awake and curious now, Melina sat up in her bed and examined the rest of the room. Her bed was placed in a corner of the room so that there was only space for one small night stand between the wall to her right and the head of the bed. On the wall were four large paintings, each of them depicting what seemed to be a different season of the same picture: a large house near a large waterfall which fell into a large, crystal blue river. A valley it seemed to be, with many trees and flowers in the summer painting.

Turning away from the wall and back to the flowing curtains on her left, Melina slowly pushed her blanket away and swung her legs off the bed. Her feet met a nice, soft carpet and she took a moment to entangle her toes with the pleasing texture. She noticed a pair of baby blue slippers lying on the carpet and put them on; perfect size, incredibly warm and yet very light. Looking back up, Melina began to wonder if she was not in a dream instead of reality. The thought scared her, and she pushed it far away for now. Even if this was a dream, at least it was a good one and she would enjoy it while it lasted.

Stepping out of the bed and onto her rested legs, Melina untangled the nigh gown that must have been given to her during her sleep and walked slowly towards the curtains. Once she walked by what seemed to be ten layers of soft, transparent silk, Melina found herself on a beautiful balcony looking out on the autumn painting she had just examined in her room, except that she was in the house depicted on the series. The valley seemed endless, and the waterfall glorious; the river that spread underneath was just as blue as the pictures had told and the trees just as majestic. What the painting could not have prepared her for were the details of the house she was standing in. All around her, she could see statues amongst the trees, archways covered in flowers, corridors emerging from bushes; such a strange architecture for Melina's mind to process. It was difficult to determine weather the buildings or the plants had been there first, or if they had all been grown together. The harmony between nature and the house was beyond incredible, it was perfect.

Melina stood still, stunned by the beauty in front of her, for a long time; and it took her longer still before she finally turned back to the room. When she re-entered, the maiden was standing in front of her with a frown on her face. Melina's heart skipped a beat. It was difficult to say what emotion she felt at that moment: fear, wonder, surprise, amazement, curiosity...all these things and above all she suddenly was certain that this was not a dream. Never in her life would she had been able to dream a creature such as this woman. Perfect in every way and possessed by a strange aura of divine power that, to Melina, could only confirm that this being was akin to angels.

Unfortunately, the maiden's reproachful look when she took Melina's cold hands in her own was anything but angelic. The tall woman pulled Melina all the way inside the room and through the second archway in which she had disappeared earlier. It led to an adjacent room which turned out to be a private bathroom. Melina was still taking in the wonderful sight of the steaming bath when the maiden began undoing her nightgown. Melina suddenly felt the fabric fall down her shoulders and barely had time to grip it tightly before it lowered past her small breasts.

At her reaction the maiden looked confused. She spoke a few soft words, pointed to the bath and tugged slightly at the nightgown. Melina felt her heartbeat accelerating and her breathing shortened, she felt panic and fear. Irrational though it was, for she had been bathed by the nurses at the residential home countless time, she suddenly felt afraid of disrobing in front of someone. The maiden seemed to ponder for a moment before she smiled and slowly, silently, left the room. Melina felt ashamed, she knew the woman had only meant to help her. Still clutching the soft fabric, she pushed the tears of frustration away painfully before taking a few deep breaths and calming herself. It was foolish to keep thinking that she was unharmed by the events that had happened to her; it would take a while, maybe it would never fully happen, for her to recover.

Luckily, the hot bath did a very good job at relaxing her tense body and worked miracles on her dirty hair. While she simmered merrily in the very large tub, playing with the different oils and soaps that had been deposited on a nearby table, Melina examined the bathroom. The ceiling was much like it was in the room, flat and crossed with large dark beams which were intricately carved with beautiful patterns. Unlike the bedroom, this room had no archways leading outside, only one window behind her which was covered with a thick blue curtain; much more private. Aside from the bath, the room was furnished with a long wall mirror besides which was a folding wall for changing. There were a few paintings decorating the walls, most of which carried the theme of water. Melina noticed a chamber pot placed in one of the corners of the room, not far from the window, she would have to make use of it later.

The bath lasted until the water turned cold and Melina's fingers and toes were so pruned that it hurt to walk. A towel had been left for her as well as a dress which hung on the folding wall. After drying, Melina wrapped the towel around herself and walked towards the dress, as she did so she noticed someone moving to her left and jumped in surprise, the figure also jumped away, equally frightened. Her heart threatening from jumping out of her throat, Melina examined the woman in front of her...it took her a long moment before she realized she was staring at her own reflexion. When she had first woken up in the horse castle, Melina had been able to examine her scars with a self-examination, it was another thing entirely to see what they looked like from a third-person perspective. Horrifying came to mind. As she walked slowly towards the mirror, Melina's towel dropped and she was graced with a full view of her mutilated body.

Everywhere, scars.

Not only on her arms and legs, but some on her breasts, her butt...and her face. What could have been a pretty face, perhaps a little too skinny, but a fair complexion, blessed with beautiful green eyes; the whole thing ruined with numerous scars on her cheeks, one across her left eyebrow, two on her nose and a particularly nasty one across her lips.

Melina felt all the air in her lungs leave her as she covered her face with both hands. Her throat felt like fire and her eyes stung. She choked a few times before falling to her knees and her tears began to flow freely. Her noises must have worried the maiden for a few minutes later she heard the woman run into the room and approach her. Melina wanted to push her away, to yell at her, tell her to leave; but all she mustered was waving her left hand at her while still covering her face with her right. Warm fingers intertwined with her own, the touch made her shiver and jerk away, but the maiden fell to her knees and scooped up Melina's body into a tight embrace. She felt the maiden's chin rest on her head and though she still felt irked by the touch of a stranger, Melina had no strength left to fight it. She was not able to say how long they remained in that position, hours, maybe days. It took her a long time to cry her last tears and finally breath normally.

The maiden's embrace never lessened, and though the position must have been uncomfortable, she never moved a limb. The touch, for Melina, went from unwanted, past tolerable, and into desirable, even needed. Long after her tears had stopped, Melina finally made a movement to separate herself from the woman's hold. Nothing sudden, a simple lifting of head head, straightening of her neck. She looked up into the maiden's clear blue eyes, in them she saw compassion, love and care. No pity. Together the stood up, the maiden standing between Melina and the mirror as she guided her behind the folding screen. When the maiden took the dress down from the screen and offered to help her into it, Melina nodded.

With someone to help her, Melina found the placing of a dress in this world to go much smoother than the first time she had attempted the feat. They were done in a moment's time. The dress was long and warm, made for chilly autumn days such as this one. When they emerged from the screen, Melina walked directly to her room, not bothering looking into the wall mirror. The maiden followed her silently. Confused as to what she should do next, Melina turned to the other woman.

-"What now?" Melina said out loud, though she highly doubted the woman would understand.

Though the words might have had no meaning for the maiden, she walked past Melina and picked up a brush from the vanity. At first she invited Melina to sit on the small bench which had been stored under the vanity, but one look at the mirror was enough to make Melina take a step backwards. The bed instead then. The maiden laid out the blanket in a comfortable manner before sitting down and inviting Melina to do the same. The next hour or so was then spent on brushing her long, untamed, but finally clean, hair dry. When that incredible feat was finally over, the maiden returned to the vanity and chose a few accessories for Melina to wear. A silver circlet was placed on top of her head, giving her a very stranger queenly feeling, and a silver pendant with a blue gem in the middle was tied to her neck. Melina was torn between wondering what she looked like now, all dressed in these fancy garment, and the image of her face in the mirror earlier. She decided that perhaps it was too early to confront her scars again and turned to the maiden for further instructions.

The woman smiled to her and, as she stood up, told something to Melina in her musical language while motioning for her to remain in the room. Following this, the maiden quickly left the room. Melina decided to head the woman's order and remained in the room. Now, dressed in an incredibly beautiful silver blue dress, she walked slowly to and fro in her bedroom, inspecting the paintings more closely and avoiding the vanity at all cost. It was not long before the maiden returned, and with another person following her closely. Melina did not recognize the man at first, he bowed to her and it was not until he lifted his golden head again that she realized he was the blond rider who had brought her here.

She experienced a strange array of feeling, not for the first time since she had arrived in this world: irrational happiness at the sight of his youthful face, sorrow at the memory of the circumstances of their first meeting and the departure of Gandalf, curiosity, for she wondered what happened after she had blacked out and wonder. So much wonder she had already, and would continue, to experience in this strange valley with this angelic people. The rider looked even more handsome than before, dressed not in ridding clothes, but a silver robed, his hair braided in a complicated fashion.

While she was still contemplating his beauty and her memories, the rider had offered her his arm. It took a few words in his deep voice to shake her back to reality. Smiling apologetically, Melina hurriedly hook her arm with his and let herself be guided out into the rest of the world. They walked together through many corridors and it seemed to Melina that the house was never ending. Each corner brought new marvels to her eyes and soon Melina had forgotten about any of her worries and concentrated in watching.

The entire house was richly decorated with paintings and carvings of various scenes she did not recognize. Some of the statues were so realistic that Melina had to resist the urge to touch them and make sure they were not live beings. Trees and flowers, as she had first witnessed on her balcony, truly seemed to have free reign in the house; and though nothing seemed disorderly, she could see that walls had been built with openings specifically created as to not cut this or that tree.

These modification resulted in the strangest layout she had ever seen; with holes in the floor, walls and ceiling, twists and turns of the corridors which would have been unneeded if they had simply cut down a few large trees. There were no windows as far as she could see; the whole house was open to the outdoor elements and at this time of the year, the marble floor was covered in a thin layer of dead leaves which danced constantly with the breeze.

The entire place smelled wonderful; a mixture of autumn and the sweet smell of wild flowers. There was also the lingering humid smell of water which probably came from the waterfall she had seen earlier. When they began climbing a few flights of stairs built around large trees. Melina then heard a beautiful sound…the sound of someone singing. They, there was indeed more than one voice, were singing in that beautiful and exotic language. Their voices were faint at first, but the more they climbed, the louder they became. The combined sound of running water, chanting birds and their song, was the most beautiful thing Melina had ever heard. When the golden rider finally stopped walking, to her legs' relief, she noticed they were standing in front of an archway. On the other side, she could see some sort of private office; there was a desk filled with papers, and the walls were lined with bookshelves crammed with hundreds of books. Melina then realized that she had seen no doors in the entire house, not one.

_Not a very private people,_ she thought.

Nevertheless, they did not simply barge into the room, her companion rang a small bell that hung on the side of the archway before entering the study. Once inside, Melina realized that they were not alone; a man was standing off to her left on what looked like a balcony. He was looking out on the valley below and only turned to them after a long moment. To say that he was beautiful would have been a gross understatement, his face pale as snow but his hair dark as the night, his eyes seemed like endless pools of power and Melina felt in her very core that this person was someone to be reckoned with. His age was difficult to determine, neither old nor young, there were no grey strands in his hair and his face was beardless.

He inspired awe and it was in awe that Melina stared at the man. And then something in her memory stirred, she recognized this person. He had been the one who had kissed her forehead; there was no doubt about it. Unconsciously, her hand rose up to the place where she had felt his warm, soft lips. His watched her movements for a moment; finally, when she thought she could not take his piercing stare anymore, looked away and began to speak with her companion. The conversation lasted a few minutes; and she could only guess its topic.

Their frequent glances in her direction indicated that she at least was part of the debate that seemed to be taking place between the two men. Unsure of what she should be doing, Melina began to wonder around the office. She examined the title of a few books, but was unable to make heads or tale of the strange alphabet inscribed on them. _Not only another language, _she thought, _but not a Latin one either..._nor any other written language she knew of. Slightly more frustrated than before, she abandoned her examination of the library and returned to the two men. The man with black hair seemed deep in thought at the moment, and only when she stood close to him did he seem to return to reality. Before she could step away or react, he had placed his hand on her right shoulder, and though his touch was warm and gentle, Melina had to overcome the reflex of jerking away.

As she tensed under his hand, Melina saw a deep sorrow in the man's eyes; she could not help feeling as if he knew what she was going through, and perhaps he did. She felt his fingers squeeze her bony shoulder slightly before he retracted his arm, he cared about her, that much was certain. The man spoke again and it took Melina a long moment before she realized he was talking to her.

-"I'm sorry," she said apologetically, "but I do not understand you."

But the man spoke again, and again, until Melina's ear was finally able to comprehend that he was repeating the same word...ah, this again. He was introducing himself. For a moment she was brought back to that day with Gandalf, when she had learnt his name. She wondered where he was at that precise moment.

-"Elrond." the man spoke the word again.

-"El...ron...d..." Melina attempted the short, simple name. "Elrond."

Elrond nodded. Encouraged by this achievement, Melina turned to the golden rider and waited for his name.

-"What?" she asked, after he spoke his name once.

The man chuckled, Melina's heat skipped a beat. If she would spend the rest of her life attempting to make this man laugh, it would not be a wasted life. The sound was, indescribable. So shocked was she that she completely forgot to listen to him as he repeated his long name a dozen or so more times. Shaking herself mentally, Melina concentrated. If she was to thank this man for probably saving her life by bringing her here, she would at least do it knowing his name.

Now...Gler...no...Glo..yes. Glor...fin...del...maybe?

-"Glorfindel." she said in a whisper, trying the word on her tongue; but apparently she had been louder than she thought for the golden rider smiled brightly (her heart skipped once again) and nodded.

The two men now stared at her and seemed to be waiting for something. _Oh right_, she thought, _my turn._ Pointing at herself, she repeated her name a few times, slowly. One after the other, Elrond and Glorfindel spoke her name, flawlessly of course, then returned to conversing with each other. Now that the introductions were done, it seemed there were other matters to settle. She realized she was hungry and though well rested, this overflow knowledge to assimilate was beginning to take its toll on her mind. But the men seemed oblivious to her presence for now and there was little she could do except to interrupt them, which would be highly impolite. She opted instead to go look out on the balcony.

The view was much like the one from her own room, though slightly higher. Melina had not paid much attention to the sun since she had woken up, taking for granted that it was morning, but it seemed she had awoken from her slumber in late afternoon. The sun was slowly disappearing on the horizon, leaving behind a beautiful orange glow which made the river look like liquid gold. All around the house below lanterns began to appear in the growing darkness, she wondered how many inhabitants there were here. It seemed this house was the only building in the valley, which was strange in itself. She would have expected an entire community to be living in such a paradise.

Night was settling in comfortably by the time she felt his hand on her shoulder. Though she did not hear him approach, she was not startled. Before turning around, she knew she would see Glorfindel, and indeed it was his smiling face that let her know they could now leave the cozy study. Again he offered her his arm and she followed him out, after he bowed to Elrond, who was staying behind. They walked back in silence, the language barrier was beginning to highly irritate Melina, but there was nothing to be done about it today.

She was unsure of their destination until she recognized the archway to her bedchamber. She was confused; was she expected to go back to bed already? Melina was starving, she had tried to ignore the growing pain in her stomach for the past few hours, but it was beginning to be difficult to walk because of it. Unfortunately it was impossible to tell Glorfindel that. He unhooked his arm from hers when they were in the archway, bowed deeply, said a few words and then disappeared.

Having nothing better to do, Melina re-entered her room. It seemed the maiden, or perhaps someone else, had changed the bedsheets; they were now pale blue instead of pure white. A few lanterns had been lit in her bedroom as well as the bathroom. After glancing in the bath chamber, Melina noticed that another dress had been hung on the folding screen. If she had thought the dress she had been given earlier was elegant, it paled in comparison to this new one. It was composed of two layers; the first one was made of a thick cotton-like material, silver in colour and adorned with tiny gems around the collar. The second layer was made of lighter material, like a cloak, of a darker grey colour and seemed to tie at the waist with a navy blue belt. Melina believed the entire thing would most likely look lovely, though how she was going to figure out how to put it on was beyond her. She wondered if she was even supposed to put it on at this time.

Luckily for her, the maiden came to her rescue. The woman walked into the bathroom with a large smile on her face, she too had changed her robes. She was now wearing a very beautiful deep red dress made of the same material as her own it seemed. Before she knew what was happening, Melina was disrobed, rubbed with a nicely scented oil, and redressed. After the cloak was fastened around her waist, Melina was guided back to the bed room where a new necklace was given to her, this one without a gem though stylish none the less. No circlet this time, instead the maiden indicated she should sit on the bed. Confused but obedient, Melina sat down and felt the woman settle behind her, seconds later fingers dug into her hair and began braiding them.

The process took a very long time, but Melina could have let it go one forever. The feeling of strong, yet soft, hands working on her skull was something she had never experienced before, at least not like this. If she was a cat, she would have purred. Heavenly, was a good word to describe it. When the maiden was done she stood up and examined her work. It took Melina a few seconds to reawaken her body from the trance it had succumbed to, and when she opened her eyes she saw that the woman was inviting her to the vanity...to the mirror. The warm fuzzy feeling quickly left her and she suddenly felt cold and afraid. Afraid of a mirror. The thought made her angrier than she had ever been in her lives; had they truly succeeded in making her afraid of her own reflection?

Slowly, Melina stood up from her position on the bed and walked towards the maiden. She stopped in front of the other woman, looking up at her wonderful face, how she wished her face would look so. The maiden turned slightly to her right, looking into the mirror and smiled. Melina turned her face away, hiding the tears that were threatening to erupt from her eyes. A soft finger on her right cheek forced her head up though and the warm smile of the maiden, or perhaps it was the power she saw in her eyes, strengthened her resolve. Melina slowly turned towards the vanity, staring at the table first but slowly she lifted her eyes.

First, Melina saw the reflection of her waist, the contrast between the two layers of her dress did indeed look stunning; higher up she realized once again how skinny her body had become when she had trouble finding the bulge of her breasts. The gems surrounding her collar were glimmering merrily under the candlelight now and her necklace looked amazing. Her bare neck showed only minor scars, having been suffered when a menacing blade had been pressed against her jugular during her rare rebellions.

Melina closed her eyes, trying to push away the unwanted memories. A squeeze of her shoulder helped her overcome her weakness and in one quick movement she lifted her head high and opened her eyes. The woman that stared back at her barely resembled the wet mess she had encountered earlier that day. Her scars had been obvious then, but now amongst the intricate braids circling her face and the jewels shining at her throat, they were almost invisible. The lower lighting also helped to hide most of them from obvious view; Melina smiled, her reflection smiled...she looked almost pretty. Before she could begin to critique herself though, she turned to the maiden again. The woman was smiling brightly, her face lit by some unknown joy. She took Melina's hand and guided her to the archway leading out of the room. The maiden then pointed to somewhere in the distance where Melina could see many lights and figures moving about.

That must be where dinner will be served, Melina hoped with all her might, it just has to be!

She turned back to the maiden, who nodded at the unspoken question and they both set out in the direction of the lights. They crossed a few people going in the same direction, most of which either spoke a greeting or nodded in their direction. Each of them was more beautiful than the next, like moving statues with perfect features. To Melina, who was now all the more aware of her lack of such flawlessness, the sight was both amazing and frustrating. She felt jealous, how could she help it, when so many people seemed to have been blessed with flawless beauty and she walked amongst them as the ugly duckling from the story, it was impossible to not feel envious.

After a few minutes, they arrived downstairs in front a large archway. Inside, Melina could see a large dinning room with quite a few people already seated; but although she could smell the food, it seemed that no one had begun eating yet. Her stomach growled loudly and she began salivating at the thought of the meal to come. But when she walked through the archway, Melina suddenly felt very much out of place. Though her dress followed the dressing code for the evening; the hall was filled with beautiful people who wore their clothes much better than she did. Though she was starving; Melina felt the sudden urge to turn around and run away. The maiden waved to someone in the hall and with one look over her shoulder to Melina, left towards whatever friend waited for her.

Melina felt her feet turn and ready her departure, but before she could escape, she felt a hand on her shoulder and turned to see Glorfindel looking down at her with a smile on his soft lips; he had changed into an even more elegant robe and looked more beautiful than before…if that was at all possible. He bowed to her and offered his arm for the third time that day. Melina felt frozen in place, her mouth hung open and her mind refused to work properly. Fortunately, Glorfindel seemed to understand her predicament and he guided her hand into his arm and led her to the largest of the tables in the room; which was in fact the only one currently in use. Melina saw that the place of honour at the end of the table was occupied by Elrond; and the two chairs on his right were empty.

To her surprise, that is where Glorfindel led her; he indicated for her to sit on the second chair while he sat in the one closest to Elrond. Melina blushed brightly at the honour she knew was being given to her.

The feast began a few minutes later after Elrond stood up and spoke a few words. It seemed she was free to serve herself from any of the many dishes that garnished the table. Everything she put in her mouth felt glorious, and though she was afraid her stomach would refuse the sudden nourishment, it behaved surprisingly well.

She chose to drink water, or rather, water is what Glorfindel served her while keeping the wine out of her reach. Not that she wanted alcohol, she did not think her body was up to liquor just yet.

Dinner was not the most exciting of time for Melina, though she did enjoy watching the guests eat, drink and laugh, for a while; but she pained at not being able to communicate with them. Everyone seemed to be engrossed in some sort of conversation except herself. It grew worse after she finished her meal and the plates were taken away; people then began to move around the room in order to speak with others, even Glorfindel left her at one point.

Bored, tired, and slightly hurt, though she could blame no one for her pain, Melina began to head for the exit. She doubted that she could find her room alone, in the darkness, but she did not want to remain in the dinning hall any longer.

The air outside was fresh, and quiet. Melina breathed deeply. She did not notice that someone had followed her until she felt a warm hand on her shoulder. Surprised, she jerked away and jumped around to see the intruder. To her relief, it was her chamber maiden. The woman bowed her head and said something, her expression a look of concern...an apology? Melina bowed her head in return.

A moment of silence followed; Melina fiddled with the hem of her sleeves, looking down at the ground, then up at the rest of the house, until she heard the maiden ask a question. Turning her eyes towards her companion, Melina saw that she was offering one arm, while pointing up towards the house with the other. Nodding gratefully, Melina quickly hooked her own left arm into the woman's right and they left the dinning hall.

* * *

**Note**: The ending of this chapter was altered completely on January 9th/2008.


	6. Friendship

**Author's Note: Important!!: **For those of you who read chapter 5 of this story before February 9th/2008, I strongly suggest you return and read the ending (the last 4-5 paragraphs) again. I have changed the ending due to my noticing a terrible mistake in the time line of Middle-Earth in my story. There is no longer a man serving Melina drinks at the dinner table the night prior, the reason being that this man is not suppose to be in Imladris at that point in the cannon story.

Thank you to all my reviewers, I love all of you for taking the time to tell me your opinion of my piece of fanfiction.

And a gazillion thanks to Lisa for reading this over and taking care of my stupid spelling mistakes. All hail Lisa.

**Chapter 6**

"To the soul, there is hardly anything more healing than friendship."  
-Thomas Moore (1779 - 1852)

_Why was it so cold? Where was the forest, the flowers, the light, the sun? It was so dark here, her eyes were useless. She was naked again, she could feel the cold, rutheless winds sting her flesh and the frozen stone below seemed to suck the air out of her. In the distance she heard howls and strange noises, and rumbles that seemed to shake the earth itself. Suddenly she knew where she was; the Devil's Tower. That accursed place on top of which she had been sent after meeting the man in gr...Gandalf. Yes, that was his name; how did she know that? Her mind was confused, things were out of place, why could she not see? She tired to move, but her body refused the command. A sob of frustration escaped her dry lips and Melina could not help calling out. _

"_Gandalf!" she yelled to the top of her lungs, "Gandalf, Gandalf, where have you gone!"_

_And suddenly he was there, and she could see. He picked her up in his strong arms and held her close. And though she knew for certain that this was Gandalf, he looked different. Gone was the beard and the grey clothes, gone was the grey in his hair and his wrinkle; in fact, gone was his body entirely. Melina saw him as a figure of light, bright and warm and strong. Only his piercing blue eyes remained visible, as well as his long white hair. On his brow she now saw a silver crown; how beautiful he was. Slowly he leaned down, gripped her hair with his fingers of light, and whispered in her ears. The meaning of the words were lost on her, but somewhere in Melina's mind a memory stirred, she knew these words. She had heard them when..._

_She was on her knees now, the dirt on the ground was stainning her dress, but she had eyes only for Gandalf. He stirred his horse away and turned his back to her, and then he was gone. Her chest tightened, her heart pounded..._

Screams…someone was screaming…so much pain, she was screaming in pain…

Melina awoke brutally, screaming and kicking; her eyes filled with tears and her chest burning. She breathed heavily and looked around quickly; it took her another moment to realize where she was: Safe and sound in a room, the room she had been given in the lovely house. The house in which lived angels...Elrond, Glorfindel...Slowly she felt her heartbeat slow down and her mind calmed.

Scenes of her dreams revisited her as she sat in the semi-darkness; Gandalf. She felt her eyes sting with tears at the thought of the old man. Melina rubbed her face roughly, drying the tears with her sleeve before they could even fall, she was sick of crying. An uncomfortable sensation in her stomach suddenly indicated to her that she was also sick in another fashion. She barely made it to the chamber pot in the bathroom before she emptied the content of her stomach. Nothing much in there really so late after her meal, but she felt slightly better nonetheless.

She sat on the cold floor for a moment, recollecting the memories of the night before. She remembered leaving the dinner hall, and being guided back by the maiden. She had changed into a night gown and had fallen asleep as soon as her head had hit the soft pillow.

Melina closed her eyes tightly and groaned as a piercing headache began to throb behind her eyes, no doubt caused by her restless sleep as was her upset stomach.

Melina doubted they would have Advil or any other such painkillers around here and so she opted for the next best thing...a hot bath. Trusting her legs not to falter and her stomach to behave, Melina approached the tub slowly. It was full of freezing water. Since she had taken a hot bath the day prior, she decided that the means to heat it must be somewhere around her bedchamber. The water source was easy to find; behind the thick curtains of the bathroom, behind which she had imagined to be a window, she found instead an opening through which she could easily reach a small stream of fresh water; two cauldrons sat patiently against the exterior wall.

It took her a little longer to realize that there was a fireplace in her bedroom. It had not been lit when she awoke the previous day, and had somehow escaped her view until now. It lay at the foot of her bed, under the painting depicting the House in Spring. Searien must have lit it after she fell asleep for there were still a few hot coals underneath the first layer of ashes. Under her bed, just right of the fireplace, Melina found a box filled with burning material. A few dry things, she could not quite figure out what they were exactly, helped to build an initial flame; and a few large coals, there was no wood to burn, were enough to create a healthy flame.

Melina then attempted to boil water. Having only used an electric stove in her life, her first attempt resulted in her night gown being drenched, her flame exinguished three times, and a whole lot of time wasted. It was not until she had been sitting idly in front of the fire for a long while that she realized her mistake: the water was not for boiling.

Groaning in exasperation at her own stupidity, Melina brought the two cauldrons outside and discarded them by the stream. She then returned to the fireplace and re-kindled a fire. This time she reached for the large holders that had been leaning against the wall next to her bed, as well as the five large stones which she had not paid attention to earlier.

When the coals were burning hot enough, Melina placed two of the stones into the fire and waited for a while, until she was sure they were hot. She then picked one up with the pincers and brought it into the bathroom, dropping it in the cold water. The stone gave a satisfying sizzle as it hit the liquid. Now encouraged, Melina returned to the fireplace quickly, and repeated the process. When all five stones had been heated and put into her bath, the water felt delicious.

But before she plunged in, Melina retrieved the stones with her hands and carried them back to her room.

The sun had risen a few notches by them time she slipped in the tub, and if she listened very carefully, she could hear the sound of the House waking up. The water did indeed do wonders on her body, and her headache. Melina closed her eyes in pleasure and relaxed. It seemed to her at that moment that she could lay there for all eternity and be the happiest woman in the world.

Unfortunatly, eternity had other plans and the sound of footsteps jerked her out of her peace.

Adrenaline filled her blood faster than lightning and she was ready to sprint out of the tub if need be; but the sight of the maiden she had met yesterday halted the sprinting plan, though Melina remained on the _qui vive_. Her hands were still firmly gripped on each side of the tub when the maiden, seemingly oblivious to Melina's fright, deposited a fresh towel on the oil table. She then picked up one of the oil bottles and, giving Melina one of her wonderful smiles, slowly stepped behind the bath.

Melina relaxed her hands for a second in order to turn and see what the woman was doing, but before she could see anything, two soft hands gripped her shoulders tightly. The feeling of terror and the need to run away gripped Melina's body again, but the maiden's fingers began to move and she found herself unable to do anything. The fingers pushed, and dug and rubbed; massageing Melina's tense back with care and expertise.

The maiden's hands went from her back, to her neck, arms, hands, feet and calfs. To her credit, she never came near Melina's abdomen or thighs, something Melina had dreaded for a moment. It felt strangely peaceful to relax undersomeone's touch. Melina wondered if the maiden being a woman made a difference in her ability to trust her, but it was impossible to say.

Immediately after being helped out of the bath, Melina decided it was long past time that she ask the maiden for her name. It seemed strange to always refer to her as "the woman", Melina was begining to grow quite fond of her and she supposed that a name was a required basis for friendship.

After she finished drying and was being helped into her undergarments, Melina attempted to ask her question. Unsure of how to go about it, she simply tapped her chest and said "Melina", then pointed the hand towards the other woman. The maiden stopped her work for a moment and smiled broadly. It seemed she had immediately understood Melina, for she tapped her own chest and slowly repeated her name a few times.

-"Searien." said Melina carefully, the name rolling easily on her tongue. A beautiful name for a beautiful woman.

Searien nodded chearfully and spoke a few sentences. Melina shook her head to indicate she did not understand, but Searien waved her hand in the air dissmissively and continued speaking. This small action, though might be seen as insignificant by any other, touched Melina's heart.

As they both continued dressing her up in another beautiful dress, Melina happily listened to Searien's musical voice as she spoke of uncomprehensible things. It seemed Searien also had quite the sense of humour, or at least believed herself to be funny. More then once while they sat on the bed to braid Melina's hair, the maiden broke into full blown laughter at what had to be her own jokes. Even after they left the bedchamber together and walked towards what seemed to be the dinning hall, Searien continued speaking.

They walked arm in arm and sometimes she would lean over and whisper into Melina's ear, as if confiding secrets to her; which happened most often when they crossed other people. Though she did not understand, Melina smiled; enjoyed these confidences the most. Other times, Searien would point at a specific item, be it a plant or a construction, and say it's name slowly. Melina repeated each one as best she could, but doubted she could remember most of them by the time breakfast had begun; but even if she only remembered two, it was more than she knew at the moment.

The hall was indeed their final destination, and though Melina recognized it from her meal the night prior, it looked quite different in the morning light. For one thing, there were not as many people sitting inside. Only a few groups sat at random intervals with no visible order. It seemed that this meal was not quite as formal as last night's dinner.

If she had been alone, Melina might have turned on her heels and left the hall immediately. Quite a few pair of eyes turned from their table mates to stare at her and just as many conversations stopped, creating an eerie silence in the large room.

But as her blood ran cold and her fears took over, Melina felt a tug at her arm and she remembered Searien. The woman, with a bold yet calm footing, pulled Melina along deeper amongst the tables. Unable to resist her firm grip, Melina forced herself to calm down and even dared to close her eyes for a few moments, trusting herself to Searien.

When she opened her eyes again, they had stopped. The table in front of them was occupied by three gorgeous men and one stunning woman. Two seats remained empty. Searien spoke a few soft words to the group and she curtised them and a gentle laughter errupted from each of the occupants. Melina's breath caught in her throat as she lisened to the impossibly pure and melodious sound of their laughter; it was more than enough to make any man shed a tear.

Before said tear could fall though, Searien promptly sat on one of the available seats and tugged at Melina's tunic so she would do the same. Melina, realizing she had been lost in thoughts, gave a weak apologetic smile, bowed slightly and slumped deep into the chair.

For a few minutes, she dared not move, afraid to find out that the rest of the hall was staring at her, even though the people at her table were again engrossed in conversations and foods. It was not until the man to her right cleared his throat and spoke her name that she stirred.

She turned to the angelic being with a questioning look, and noticed that he was holding a jug in front of the glass that had been set for her. Hoping that it was not alcohol, Melina nodded. A clear, ordorless liquid poured down; water. Smiling her thanks, Melina cupped the now cool glass and sipped the soothing liquid.

A memory suddenly flashed in front of her eyes; somewhere darker and uglier, she had relished a drink in the early morning, much like now...coffee. Melina shook herself mentally, the coffee might be worthwhile reminiscing, but the living situation in which she had the said coffee was not. She returned to the present time with a sigh of relief and began inspecting the content of the large food platter in the middle of the table.

Fruits, bread and nuts seemed to be the main servings today. Melina took a particularly shiny apple, inspected it for a moment before sinking her teeth into its green skin. The sour juices of its interior flowed onto her tongue and she recoiled immediately; pursing her lips and closing her eyes shut to try and fight the sensation. The worst of it passed, Melina opened her eyes to a grinning crowd of four; she blushed furiously which triggered Searien's joyous laughter.

The others joined soon after, though their chuckles were slightly more polite than her friend's. Riddiculed, though by no other means than her own stupidity, Melina smiled and slumped a little further into her chair; her apple held in front of her face.

Breakfast lasted for what she guessed was an hour or two, after which Searien and Melina left the dinning hall together.

The angelic woman guided Melina around the house slowly, naming things as she went. The lesson was too fast to be efficient though, and Melina's mind wandered instead of paying attention to the words being said.

She thought of the past. What else was there for her to think about really? This was her second day in this house, second conscious day at least. She wondered how long she had been asleep after the blackout on the horse with Glorfindel. It was difficult to say. Enough for her to have healed sufficiently, she supposed. But between her seperation from Gandalf, and today, how many days had passed? How long had the man in grey been away for? Melina felt the strange pain of loss returning as she thought of him. She remembered their first meeting so vivdly; he had been the first person in this world who had been decent to her, even caring. How she had pained to see the look in his eyes when the Devil had brought her to him. And then they had been sent away, to die she presumed. She could still feel the cold, hard stone against her skin and though she was dressed warmly, Melina shivered violently.

Searien stopped walking and turned to her, concern carved on her angelic features. She spoke, asked a few questions, even cupped Melina's cheek and rubbed away a tear that had fallen. The warmth emenating from her fingers soothed Melina immediately. She felt her fears and sorrows fade away as if they had never been there. She took a deep breath, and the air that filled her lungs felt freasher and sweeter than ever before. Surprised, Melina gasped and felt herself slump as her body relaxed.

Searien smiled and took her hand away after a second or two. Melina moaned in protest over the lost warmth, but caught herself and blushed. Searien only chuckled.

They had arrived at a small garden, complete with two stone benches and a mosaic stoned floor which seemed to depict some sort of tree. The enclosure formed a large, perfect circle, and around it stood large, beautiful trees and one white statue to her left. Melina stepped in front of the life sized monument and examined its soft features. She imagine it represented a historical figure of some kind, a woman she guessed from the clothes depicted. The statue's face showed a very solemn expression, her eyes were turned towards the sky and her hands were joined together as if in prayer. If the statue was any indication, the woman must have been a most gorgeous of creatures, beyond anything Melina could begin to imagine. She wondered what the woman might have been looking for, amongst the clouds, or maybe in the stars.

"Luthien." Searien's soft voice reached her ears.

"Luthien." Melina repeated carefully. These people certainly knew how pick names.

After a long moment, Melina finally turned away from the statue and noticed that Searien was not behind her anymore. Instead, the woman was sitting on one of the benches, her eyes starring directly at Melina. They looked at each other for a second, before Melina lowered her gaze and walked around the garden. There was writing on the slabs of stone which formed the mozaic she walked on; very elegant letters which probably told a story, or maybe it was a quote.

Her feet finally guided her to the second bench and she decided to sit down for a bit. Searien was still looking at her with those piercing eyes and Melina cocked up head with a questioning look. The other woman smiled sweetly and seemed to be about to say something, but she looked away suddenly. Melina wondered what was wrong, but a figure then glided into the garden from behind.

The figure, brown haired man with golden robes, stopped walking and greeted both woman with a bowed head. Searien returned the greeting, and Melina decided to imitate her companion. The man than spoke a few sentences, to which Searien replied with a simple nod before she stood. The man turned and left the garden, back the way he had come, and Searien began to follow him.

Melina stood up, confused, but Searien shook her head slightly, clearly indicating that she was not to accompany her this time. Frustrated, but seeing no other choice, Melina sat down again and watched the two figures dissapear behind the trees.

Alone again, with no guide and absolutely nothing to do, Melina began to think. It was bothering her that she had lost sense of time since dying the first time. Not only had she lost control over every other aspect of her life, but she could not even hold on to time.

"Two days in this place..." she mumbled to herself, "How long did we ride for, Glorfindel and I? Three days, perhaps even longer?" she began to count on her fingers, "Gandalf and I rode for about 4 days out of the horse city, so that was at least 2 weeks in this world." But it was impossible to say how long she had been held captive in the Devil's tower, "Anything from a week, to a year." she groaned.

Melina grabbed her head in frustration. Thinking about all of this did not make her feel better at all. Deciding against staying in the garden like an abandoned puppy waiting his its master to return, Melina stood and began to walk. She had no destination in mind, but she needed to wander; needed to do something by herself and for herself, to make her feel in control. Like the bath this morning; she had been happy to be able to provide that one thing for herself, without any help.

The house seemed endless. Not even figure of speech endless, but truly without an end. It was in such perfect sync with the nature around it, that Melina was not certain when the wild forest started, and when the orderly construction began. She had been following what seemed to be a fairly normal corridor, when suddenly she was surround by tall trees, wild grass and no sign of civilization. Surprised, Melina looked over her shoulder to make sure she could still see the house and, reasured, she thread on.

It was peaceful to be alone for once, alone by choice. She headed down a well laid path until she began to hear the sound of a flowing stream. It was a common noise in this area, the house seemed to be criss-crossed by hundreds of streams which all flowed into the larger river at the bottom of the valley. Many waterfalls as well.

She walked for a few more minutes until she saw the stream, as well as a convieniently placed bench under a large willow tree. Cheered by the sight, Melina began to head towards the bench when she noticed that it was already occupied. From her vantage point, Melina could only see the person's back. She deduced it was a child, from its height, and probably a little boy. She hesitated, not wanting to disturb the stranger, but just as she was about to turn on her heels and leave, the small figure waved a hand in a forward motion. Melina looked around her and, since she was alone, concluded that she was the recipient of the invitation.

She aproached the bench slowly and only when she was close enough to look over the child's shoulder did she realize that he was not a child at all. It was a man, an old one at that. Now stunned in place, Melina starred in shock as the man turned towards her and smiled. His face was riddled with wrinkles, his hair pure white, and his feet dangled over the bench jovially. What manner of a creature was this!?

The small man hopped off the bench, after putting away the large book that had been lying on his lap, and bowed to her. Melina closed her gapping mouth and bowed her head slightly. In all manner, the man looked human, except for his height, and his strange, hairy, shoeless feet. After his greeting, her extended a tiny hand in her direction and spoke. Melina took the hand, but remained silent and confused.

The little man frowned for a moment, before he seemed to remember something and he began to nod violently, mumbling under his breath. He then proceeded to walk back and forth for a few seconds, one hand behind his back and one hand against his chin, before he stopped short and looked up. Once, Melina might have found the whole scene impossible and she would have surely ran away; but today, today she only found it amusing.

"Bilbo." the tiny figure said finally, one small finger pointed directly at his chest.

"Bilbo." Melina repeated, feeling more secure now that she was on familiar ground. "Melina." she said in return.

The small figure nodded vigourously again; he probably had heard of her by now. With a few more words that escaped her, Bilbo returned to his bench, picked up his book again, and patted the now empty place besides him.

Melina, having absolutely nothing better to do and nothing planned, decided to oblige the old man. She circled the bench from behind and sat beside Bilbo.

For a moment, he remained silent. Melina watched as he scribbled down a few sentences in his book, which seemed quite extensive already, before he put everything away in a small satchel. He then turned to her and starred at her face for a long moment.

Melina, all too aware of her many scars, turned away from the man and instead looked at the stream. She felt Bilbo shift besides her, and jerked away in surprise when she felt his small hand pat her right thigh. She was half way up when she noticed that Bilbo was looking terrified and red-faced, both his hands held up high in sign of peace.

Realizing that she had overreacted, Melina settled down again. Bilbo seemed to have been more terrified than herself for he stared at her with wide eyes for a long time before speaking again. When he did speak though, it was to mumble to himself for minutes while rubbing his chin and dangling his feet back and forth.

Melina starred at the stream while he spoke, his soft voice soothing her into a sort of trance. Her mind wandered, not into dark memories, but into nothingness. She felt asleep, though she was wide awake and wondered if mediation was perhaps similar to this. Besides her, she felt Bilbo stir and he suddenly appeared in her line of vision. Shaking herself out of her reverie, Melina concentrated on the comical little man in front of her, who now seemed to have a goal in mind.

She watched, interested, as he walked to the willow tree, tapped its bark and repeated a word slowly. Melina hesitated, unsure if she had the energy to engage in a language lesson at the moment, but since she was unable to politely decline Bilbo's generous offer, she decided to avoid insulting him and repeated the word dutifully.

Bilbo seemed endlessly pleased and he nodded a few times as he walked over by the brook. There he dipped his hand in the water while repeating another word. After Melina repeated this new word, Bilbo made a movement with his arm which probably indicated the stream as a whole, and repeated another word three times. Melina decided that she liked Bilbo's lesson much more than Searien, the small man was a better professor to be certain.

They kept up the class for what Melina guessed to be an hour or two. She doubted that she would remember more than a word or two the next morning, but maybe if she could have a lesson from Bilbo everyday, she would be able to communicate with these people within a year.

A year...Melina had trouble thinking about the future, even more trouble than thinking about her past. She had trouble finding anything to live for, that was the main problem. Most people had goals in life, work, marriage, children, all those sorts of things. But Melina could not really think of any goal she wanted to achieve...except now, learning these people's language. It was a start, after all...a good start. Taking things slowly was the best course of action in her situation, she knew this, but she had never been the most patient of person. Perhaps this second chance at life was a good oportunity to refine certain qualities that had been missing from her repertoire before.

The lesson was over, Melina knew this because Bilbo was gathering his things and waiting for her to follow him back. She obliged him, having no better idea of what to do at the moment, and together they returned to the house, at which point Melina realized she was hungry. Luckily for her, Bilbo seemed to be heading to the dinning hall, which she never would have found otherwise.

Once inside, she sat with the small man at a table occupied by two other men who barely noticed their arrival, nor Melina's subsequent departure when she finished her meal. She was tired. More tired than she should be considering her lazy morning, but she really needed to lie down. Having now been up and down from her room three or four times, Melina was able to find her chambers without much difficulty. It was empty when she arrived, though her bed sheets seemed to have been changed and the mess from her fire-experiment cleared.

She hoped that nobody would worry too much if she disappeared into her blankets for an hour, but could not find the energy to find Searien and tell her. Instead Melina pulled out her blankets and lay down, falling alseep almost immediately.

* * *

When she woke up again, Melina was lost and confused. She groaned and turned around, ready to fall asleep again, but a hand gripped her shoulder and shook her gently. Now wide awake and terrified, she screamed, kicked, and back away against the back of her bed, sitting up as she did so. Memories of rough awakenings in a dark, cold, wet cell errupted in her memory, accompanied by intense pains throughout her body. She could see the hand of the Torturer reaching out for her and she screamed louder, flailing her arms to try and stop him.

Then she heard a voice. A soft, soothing voice in a language she did not understand. But though the words meant nothing to her, she felt their power run down her spine, calming her tense nerves as they did so. Safety, she was safe and her eyes began to clear. The darkness faded, giving way to a light brighter than any she had seen before. Melina saw the face of a young woman, she was calling out to her, reaching for her face with a hand that seemed to glow with an unnatural light.

"Searien..."Melina mumbled, and immediately everything returned to normal.

She was in her bedroom, inside the House she had awoken in three, no two, days ago. It was only afternoon, she had taken a nap. She looked around the chambers slowly, saw that Searien was already dressed for dinner and concluded that the woman had come to help her prepare.

Still slightly disgruntled, Melina pushed her blankets away and stood up. She stretched and rubbed her face awake, before she headed to the bathroom to relieve herself. She noticed Searien opening the wardrobe and picking out a dress from it, which she brought into the bathroom.

It took less time than before to get ready; for one she did not need to take a bath, and she also felt more comfortable while being helped in and out of a dress by someone else.

When she was finally ready, a few minutes later, the two women headed down for dinner. Searien began her usual chatter, though she seemed less incline to humour than earlier.

The hall was again in order, everyone was wearing their best robes, looking glorious and glowing, and again the seat beside Glorfindel was empty. Still more inclined to follow Searien than to walk alone to the seat at the high table, Melina needed a shove from the maiden in order to start walking in the right direction.

While walking, she looked around for Bilbo, but did not see him. Perhaps he prefered some quiet for dinner, or maybe he went to bed early. She remembered how tired she used to get at night before she arrived here...when she had looked like Bilbo, full of wrinkles and white hair. The thought made her shudder and she hurried to her warm, comfortable seat, which Glorfindel politely pulled for her when she arrived.

She inclined her head as a greeting and a thanks, before she sat down. The lord of the house greeted her in his language and Melina smiled to him, as well as her neighbours. It hurt slighlty to see them all smile, with their perfect features and the beauty they emenated without effort, but she also found it difficult to look away. She decided to compromise and stare at Glorfindel, since there was less chance to appear impolite if she looked at someone she was at least semi-aquainted with.

He did not appear to notice her stare at first, but when the food began to be served he turned to her knowingly and starred right into her eyes. Feeling like a deer caught in the headlights, Melina was unable to move for a long moment. His eyes were amazing. Sometimes silver, sometimes blue, and they even hinted green. She knew that she was long passed impolite and was now approaching the voyeur category, but she could not find the will power to look away.

It was him, in the end, who turned, after mumbling a few words which seemed to have been meant for her only, though she did not understand. He returned to his plate, where food had been served moments ago. A few seconds later, Melina also turned away and began to eat, though she paid little attention to what she was putting in her mouth. It all tasted equally delicious. She was busy commiting Glorfindel's words to memory, along with the words Gandalf had whispered in her ear before he left, a week ago...or two weeks ago? One day she promised herself that she would understand what these men had been trying to tell her.

Dinner wore on, much like the night before. Everyone ate, talked, laughed and when the plates were taken away, the crowd began to move about. Though she had just awoken from a nap, Melina admited defeat not long after the signing and dancing began. She would have loved to stay longer, but she felt herself nodding in and out of consciousness a few times.

She rose to leave, but felt a hand on her elbow as she did so. Glorfindel had returned from his tour around the hall and was now standing very close to her. Melina stumbled back in an attempt to create space between them, and his hand stabilized her before she could fall onto the table. She blushed and thanked him but when he began to pull her towards the dance floor, Melina resisted.

"No...please." she mumbled, "I am very tired." she pointed to the exit to try and clear things out.

Glorfindel seemed to understand and instead began to head for the exit with her. Melina wondered if he was going to take her back to her room himself, which would be slighlty innapropriate, but he stopped short at the doors and bowed to her. Melina curtised akwardly, blushed when he kissed the back of her hand, and left the room which had become impossibly hot.

The air outside cooled her immediately and she shivered. Deciding it was best not to linger too long in the fresh night, Melina headed directly for her bedroom. She picked out a thick nightgown from her wardrobe, considered making a fire, but decided she was too tired, and sank back into her soft mattress. She relaxed under the thick covers and slowly drifted off, with memories of food, laughter and silver eyes in her mind.

* * *

Melina awoke in the middle of night, screaming and hurting. She reached down to her inner thighs and when she felt nothing but healed flesh, she began to cry silently. Why could they not leave her alone? She had suffered enough! Angry and scared, Melina pushed away her blankets and stood up, deciding to take a stroll in order to clear out her mind.

Her bare feet echoed eerily against the floor. She wondered if anyone else was awake in the building, but she could hear nothing. Her steps led her to the garden she had discovered during the day with Searien and she sat on the same bench.

The night was quiet and peaceful; the only sound she could hear were the wind in the remaining leaves and the waterfalls in the distance. Here, alone in this makeshift paradise, Melina knew she was safe…and yet her memories would not rest. She tried not to think about the nightmare that had awoken her, but the more she tried to push it away, the more powerful it became.

She felt the hand of the Torturer brutally fumble her right breast and she winced at the imagined, yet all too real, pain. Melina's hand unconsciously came up to feel her right breast, where she felt nothing but the warm material of her gown. Hot tears began to flow down her cheeks as she struggled to stay in control of her own mind. But he was there, with her in this beautiful place, violating her with his dirty and putrid hands. She screamed and shot up to her feet; but the movement caught her head off guard and a wave of dizziness came over her.

She fell heavily on her knees, but she barely felt the pain…the Torturer was laughing at her pain as he plunged the blade in the soft skin of her abdomen; not deep enough to hit any organ, but enough to hurt. She brought both hands to her mid-section and began sobbing uncontrollably. She was so alone…no one was there to save her…no one was there to take the pain away.

But then she felt her body being pulled into a warm embrace; strong, soft arms wrapped themselves around her frail body and soft words were spoken in her ear. Melina struggled for a moment, surprised and scarred, but the hold on her body was too strong. The Torturer was gone, but she could still see him in the back of his mind…he was only temporarily subdued, she could see him waiting for his chance to strike back at her.

Melina shook her head furiously to try and shake away the feeling. The arms around her tightened and, very slowly, she began to calm down. Soon her sobs diminished to small hiccups and she was able to breathe normally. Her body was on the verge of exhaustion; she could feel her mind shutting down, her eyelids were heavy…and she was so comfortable. The soft voice was still whispering in her ear when she fell asleep.

* * *

Thanks for reading!

* * *


	7. Family

**Author's Note: **Update!

Thank you to all who reviewed, truly. And everyone who inquired about the fate of the story.

Thank you so much to Lisa, the greatest beta reader on the face of Canada.

**Chapter 7**

"Family isn't about whose blood you have. It's about who you care about."  
-Trey Parker and Matt Stone (South Park)

The dim light of the morning sun, the sweet breeze blowing through the curtains, the soft sensation of her body against the mattress, the sound of Searien buzzing about the room...all these things were becoming quite familiar to Melina.

Also familiar, and less enjoyable, was the sweat covering her body, her entangled hair, her blanket half fallen on the ground and the memories of her new nightmares rushing back to her as she awoke.

The Devil. He had been the major visage this night. Though he had never himself laid hand on her during any torture session, she somehow dreaded him more than any other. It was his eyes. His cold, ruthless and mocking blue eyes. Strange how he and Gandalf could bear almost identical eye colour and yet have such strikingly different eyes.

The thought of the man in Grey quickly created a painful knot in her throat and she turned her mind to the more bearable nightmares. It was difficult to tell if the nightmares were getting worse or not. But one thing was certain, they certainly were not getting any better.

As she slowly rose from her bed, heading to the bath chamber after a mumbled greeting to Searien, she thought about how easily this was becoming her routine. Not that it was a bad routine in any possible way, indeed she loved it very much; which, she thought, is the answer to your question right there. Everything this nice and simple was bound to be easily accepted.

Except for the nightmares, she heard a small voice in her head whisper. But she quickly quieted the voice, she did not want to think about nightmares anymore.

A bath, a dress, the braiding of her hair, the adornment of accessories, and finally a scribble in her journal.

The journal was a simple one, with almost nothing written inside of it so far. Bilbo had given it to her on their third lesson, along with a quill and ink. Melina had ripped out the first few pages, having blotted most of them black by her inexperience with quills.

It was only after an evening of trying that she had finally been able to write anything legible. Unfortunately for her, this first legible page of the journal had also been ripped out, but not by her.

Bilbo, having taken a look at her journal the day after its delivery, had noticed she had written in English. Melina had then learned that she was expected to use the journal as a learning tool.

So, this morning, having had much practice since her first blotch, she scribbled a somewhat neat line at the top of a fresh page. It was a date. Not written in English either, but in Sindarin, the language of these people.

October 9th, 3018

A week had now passed since her first lesson, she noted.

Every morning she now wrote a few lines in the strange new language. It was not much...in fact they said almost nothing at all.

"My dress is blue. Glorfindel's shoes are silver. My night is good."

But, Melina had to admit, it was helping. The symbols were becoming easier to write. Having to re-learn how to speak and write was not something easy for a woman of her age. Even though she might have the physique of a youngster, her mind, and mostly pride, were having a hard time accepting that she was but a child in this world. She sometimes missed looking old.

Being an elderly had its downfalls, but it also changed the way people reacted around you. When she looked at Bilbo, in all his wrinkled glory, she saw that he commanded respect, of a sort, from all those around him. Even Lord Elrond gave Bilbo his due respect, and Melina could only conclude that it was because the little man was older than all of them.

She now looked like a mere child to these people, which would not be so bad if she could at least speak their language and show the wisdom and knowledge she had accumulated in all her years; but the most complicated sentence in her vocabulary at the moment was: 'Can you pass me the water, milk, etc...

The annoying voice in her head began to argue the point of her assumed wisdom and knowledge, but Melina refused to listen to it. The voice reminded her of evil times, times in the Dark Tower when she had only herself to converse with. Not, now that she thought of it, that she could converse with anyone here either...Melina grunted.

She had not been able to tell a soul about herself. She was not certain she would if she had the chance, but Melina detested being forced into a decision. Maybe it would have helped her to speak about what had happened, to let someone else in this world know where she had come from. Of course she was aware that Gandalf knew quite a bit, but he was not here...and she still missed him.

No, no...think about something else!

A blotch appeared on the page of her journal where the quill had laid for too long. Melina cursed under her breath and then let out a deep sigh to try and calm herself. Breakfast was probably already underway, she would need to leave soon if she wanted to partake in it

Melina concentrated on the journal again, quill in hand. She scribbled down the numbers from 1-20, she knew them by heart but practiced them almost every morning nonetheless. She then wrote the names of Glorfindel, Bilbo and Searien, as well as her own name, in the new alphabet. Following this she made up sentences. Simple ones with one one pronoun, a verb and an adjective. Noticing she still had half a page to fill out, Melina decided to conjugate the verbs to have and to be.

With her morning writing done, she got up and made her way to the dinning hall. She now always sat with Searien and her group of friends. Their party seldom change, though Glorfindel had joined them for breakfast a few times. Her meal also did not change much. It consisted of the same fruits nuts and fresh juice of some sort.

Never meat, not for breakfast nor any other meals. She wondered about this for a few days, but since she was unable to ask the question, she had simply filed it away as an unimportant fact of these people's lives. The lack of meat did not bother her much in the end. At the nursing home she had rarely been allowed a meal as heavy as meat.

Melina enjoyed sitting down with people and listening to their conversation. She was aware that it was highly impolite, but it also allowed her to learn so much more of the language. Every word she learned with Bilbo, she tried to understand in normal conversations.

It was one thing to hear one word repeated slowly and clearly for learning purposes, it was something else entirely to be able to understand that word in a sentence. Accents changed, the tone of voice changed and the speed of speech was always different from one person to the next.

It was a frustrating process, but she was getting better. She could now detect names and numbers and sometimes colours. It was not enough to understand a conversation, but it allowed her to guess more accurately about what they might be talking about.

Though she had hoped that he would, Glorfindel did not show up in the hall for breakfast. She forced herself to remember that he was probably a busy man, and he had not even spent most of the mornings with them, only two or three. Still, she enjoyed his presence immensely. Though she was not quite sure why that was.

Melina felt unnaturally close to the angel. She used the word unnaturally as she had rarely been close to anyone in her previous life and had worked hard to become a person who would not be easily enamoured with anyone, let alone a beautiful man.

She HAD pondered about her feelings for hours by now. Sometimes she felt sick with herself, thinking she might be suffering from puppy love, and she cursed her new body as it was, of course, the only thing to blame.

But other times, on rare occasions when Melina allowed her mind to open up, she realized that her "attraction" to Glorfindel had nothing to do with physical attraction, even though he was undeniably gorgeous. Everyone in this house was as beautiful as he; in rare cases even moreso.

It was extremely difficult, for a woman like Melina who had harboured so few personal relationship throughout her long life, to analyze her feelings. She could only compare her feelings for Glorfindel to the ones she had inexplicably felt for Gandalf. And the latter were even more confusing to the poor woman.

Of course, there was Searien. This relationship was easier to understand for Melina as she had had a maid for a very long time. That bitch had been the one to send her to the nursing home after all. But before the last few years with her, Melina had, if not enjoyed, at least tolerated the presence of her maid.

Searien was similar, yet different. Melina did not merely "tolerate" Searien, she had depended on the woman for the first few days, and still did for many reasons. It gnawed at Melina's pride that she had to rely on anyone, but she would truly be lost without her...and Bilbo.

Now there was a character who she could really open up to. Not in the sense that she would tell him her secrets, but she was less guarded, more relaxed in front of him. He was, as she realized painfully, exactly how she should have been when she was his age. Merry, full of humour, overflowing with energy and stories and simply adorable.

That, she had thought one day, is how I want to be this time around.

After breakfast, most of which Melina had spent in her own thoughts, she left Searien and headed for the hall of fire. It had become their unofficial lesson room. Cozy, huge and practical, she now spent hours in the room with Bilbo; breaking only for eating and naps.

The short man often had to take naps in-between their lessons, but Melina took the time to do whatever homework Bilbo had prepared for her, or she stole away to the kitchens for an apple or other snack.

They sometimes received visitors in their lessons as well. Glorfindel and Searien were amongst the ones she had seen most often. In fact Glorfindel had only missed the first two lessons which had taken place in the hall, and had attended each of the following ones.

The golden "Eldar", as Bilbo called the angels of the house, was a great help to the lessons. And good company when Bilbo suddenly fell asleep while teaching.

Others had also joined the lessons on random occasions, most she did not know, but Elrond she had recognized easily. He had stood at the doorway a few times, looking into the group for a few moments before disappearing again.

Melina popped into the kitchen quickly before going to the hall. She had noticed that Bilbo had chosen the hall of fire as his writing/teaching room because of its position so close to the kitchen. The "Hobbit", which she figured was some strange name for old and short men, had a hole in his stomach, Melina was certain of it. He could eat, and drink, like no other.

She had noticed that one of the cooks brought the old man breakfast not long after everyone in the main hall had finished eating, she had figured that since she was going to meet Bilbo every morning she might as well save the busy kitchen staff a trip of ten meters and take the food herself.

She also brought the Hobbit lunch, teas and food for his after naps snacks, and even once his dinner. This last one had happened the night prior and had been a clever ploy in order to get away from the dancing for the evening.

Every night, after dinners, these merry angels simply loved to dance and sing. Nothing was wrong with such display of happiness, but Melina had drawn a big thick line between watching the merriness and joining it.

Unfortunately, Glorfindel seemed impervious to big thick lines.

Three nights ago, seeing that Melina was still only a clapping spectator to the party, he had decided to pull her onto the dance floor. Now, Melina was certain she had a strong will, this certainty was enhance by the knowledge that she had in fact endured an extended period of severe torture and had come out passably sane. But there was no measure of will when it came to resisting the charm of these angel/Eldars.

They simply were. And by being, they could easily convince you to throw yourself down a cliff with one look.

Melina, thinking that jumping off a cliff would have been a lot less humiliating than dancing, had been unable to stop Glorfindel from pulling her up, taking her into his arms, and twirling her around the floor.

She had not been able to ignore the fact that everyone else seemed that have stopped their dancing in order to watch her first dance. She had also been aware of how red her cheeks were, how clumsily her feet hit the floor and how amazing her partner was at not making her look like a complete idiot.

He was, in fact, leading her like a pro. As if, all his life, he had dealt with nothing but clumsy partners and had developed a talent for making them do things they would never have been able to do themselves.

Melina twirled, hopped and actually danced, all thanks to the masterful, and warm, hands of Glorfindel.

When it had ended, Melina had sworn to herself that it would never happen again. Which of course, it did, the evening following. At least, that time, most of the other participants had kept dancing instead of scrutinizing her.

Intent on not letting Glorfindel subdue her into another dance, and knowing she would utterly fail without a plan, Melina had decided to make up an excuse in order to leave early. Bilbo had immediately come to her mind.

Last night, after she had finished her meal and the singing had begun, Melina had politely excused herself, in Sindarin with a heavy accent, and mentioned Bilbo. There were a few curious glances and she had felt their stares as she headed for the kitchen, but ignored them all.

Once behind the kitchen doors, she had again made her intentions clear by naming the short man and pointing to the plate one of the staff was preparing for the Hobbit. Knowing that she took almost all his other meals to him, the cook had happily offered the plate, bid her a good night and returned to his work cleaning up the dishes.

The plan had worked perfectly.

Now, as Melina opened the door to the hall of fire, holding a plate in one hand and a cup of tea in the other, she found herself in a very happy mood.

Bilbo was sitting in his usual place, next to the fireplace which was lit with a small cozy fire, and was writing in his journal. She had noticed that the man was slightly deaf, only enough for her to be able to walk up right next to him without his noticing. She had unknowingly surprised him a few times, and personally knowing how horrid it was to be surprised at his age, she now made sure he saw her as she approached.

He did, and smiled, putting his large book away and clapping his hands happily at the sight of his food.

"Good morning, Bilbo." she said, the strange language rolling clumsily off her inexperienced tongue.

"Good morning Melina, thank you very much." he said, taking the food away from her and diving in like a starved dog.

Melina smiled and waited patiently for the man to finish. Aside from the greeting, there was little else she could say to him and he never talked while he ate. She busied herself with preparing her quill and papers, looking over some of the notes she had written the previous sessions.

They were still covering the rudimentary basics, and probably would be for another two weeks. The alphabet, the numbers, the core verbs and a few simple greetings and polite responses. It helped that Bilbo could not speak English.

He spoke Sindarin slowly, each word spoke with precision, which allowed her to at least file the words away in their memory and notice when they were repeated, though she often did not know their exact meaning. That would come later, and with time.

The books with pictures helped the most. Bilbo used them every session, pointing at various aspects of the drawings and naming them. She never remembered all the words, but when repeated often enough, she could recall at least a third.

Today's lesson was spent in much of the same manner as the others, with one exception: no one came. It was disappointing enough that Glorfindel did not come to breakfast and her lesson, but for the first time since their first lesson in the woods, Bilbo and Melina were completely alone the entire time. No Searien, no curious strangers, and no Elrond.

By the time Melina left for lunch, she was strangely nervous. There was little reason for her to be, after all she was not so important that people would want to watch her recurrently, perhaps they had gotten bored of the "new attraction" in the house...but somehow this sounded wrong even as she said it to herself.

It was paranoia. She knew it, and had been dealing with it daily now since her arrival here. Every once in a while, especially at night, she would get fits of delusions. They were, of course, worse when she was alone. Having somebody next to ground grounded her to reality and often prevented her from going completely crazy. Searien had gotten quite skilled at spotting the onset of such episodes and had helped her out of them on two occasions.

The first had happened two days after she had first awakened in the house.

Searien had been showing her the house, which contained more corridors than rooms it seemed, but was beautiful nonetheless. One of the rooms she had fallen in love with as soon as she had walked into it was the library. It was huge, and filled with as much art as it was with books. Statues, murals, paintings, even the bookcases were elaborately carved. Melina had wanted this to be the end of the tour, she started walking along the walls slowly, inspecting the beautiful details on a huge mural.

It depicted, quite graphically, the scene of a battle. It was hard to make out because it was so large, but after taking a few step back she could distinctively see two different armies battling each other. One of the armies was wearing a very elaborate style of armour, and she slowly realized the soldiers were all angels. It was the fairness of the skin, the brilliance of their hair, and even in painting there was an unmistakable aura around them. To see them in battle, some obviously injured and others dead, felt very wrong.

Quickly, Melina turned to the other army and walked closer in order to examine the smaller soldiers. It was a mistake.

All at once the painting was alive. The demons jumped our of their pigment prison and assailed her. Their foul stench, their glowing eyes, and their ability to simply drain any happy thought or warm light. Melina was about to scream, flail and attempt to run away, when a searing bright light stepped in front of her and shook her lightly.

"Searien...?" Melina whimpered as she peaked over the angel's shoulder to look at the now still painting. "Damn it..." she groaned to herself.

Melina had not returned to the Library since, though she refused to admit it was because of the hallucination. She was planning to return, in order to examine the rest of the room, every morning she told herself she would visit it again, but always failed. Perhaps later today...after she got rid of this odd feeling.

It was in the dinner hall that her uneasy feelings were confirmed. The entire hall seemed uneasy. It was palpable. For one, it was almost devoid of guests, usually there were tons of people eating lunch, but today she counted 30 at most. Searien was missing, and so was everyone else at their usual table. The hall was also quieter, everyone present seemed distracted, and mostly seemed to shove their food around instead of eating hungrily as they usually did.

Suddenly not feeling hungry at all, Melina exited the hall quickly and decided to find Searien. The house was very big, bigger than any she had visited before, but she had learned how to navigate her way through most of it, thanks to Searien.

The first place Melina decided to look was her own room. When she found it quiet and empty, she headed for Searien's room, which was located not far from her own as she had learned a few days prior. Again, empty.

The corridors were also emptier than usual, and the whole house just seemed, wrong. Melina had harboured strange thoughts about the house since her arrival, to her it seemed almost alive. It was probably all the vegetation, but also the many statues which seemed to change expression depending on how you looked at them. The house usually seemed as merry as any angel it sheltered, with the leaves dancing to the wind accompanied by the sweet sound of music...

Melina stopped dead in track and strained her ear. No music. For perhaps the first time since her arrival in the house, no Eldars were singing.

Fighting to remain calm, and slowly loosing the battle, Melina began to walk back down to the lower levels...quickly now. There was no one. Not one soul.

As she rushed down to the Luthien garden she had adopted as her own, Melina felt the day begin to darken. When she glimpsed up at the sky, she saw dark clouds blowing quickly over the sun. Rain.

As soon as the thought crossed her mind, the first drops began to fall. Soon it was a torrential downpour. A thought of hope flashed in her mind: perhaps the Eldars were all inside, away from the rain they might have known was coming!?

Unfortunately, as she finally arrived to the garden, completely drenched, she was proven wrong. From her position, the equivalent of about a story above ground level, Melina saw a large crowd gathered down at the stables.

It looked like it was everyone inhabitant of the house. Lanterns were being lit and cloaks were being tightened as the rain fell harder and harder. In front of the crowd, which was assembled in a large semi-circle, horses were being readied.

Melina had been to the stables a few times, and she had seen many people arrive and leave while sitting in the garden, but there had never been such a crowd. Something important was going on. And then, when she had been about to walk down and try to figure out what was happening, she saw Asfaloth.

It was unmistakably Glorfindel's horse. White, shining with the same aura as its master, she would have recognised the horse anywhere. It was only yesterday that Glorfindel had taken her to the stables to visit the amazing animal again.

Her already racing heart began to beat faster in her chest. She felt weak and deflated. As she began to feel her mind slip into the all to familiar darkness, something else took over. A drive, a stubbornness and strength she had rarely felt before. She felt herself clench her small fist, flex her leg muscles and before she knew it she had spun around and started on a mad dash for the stables...

Only to crash, hard, against something soft and warm.

She started to apologize, her broken Sindarin coming out of her dry mouth when she noticed something. It was something so imperceptible, a mix between the man's smell and the invisible yet blinding aura. Whatever the exact reason, even before Melina looked up into his face, she knew it was Glorfindel.

He was covered with a long, thick silver cloak, the hood of which was raised, but left his face visible. His hair had been braided back and he did not adorn any of his usual accessories. Melina, standing close enough that her waist was still touching his body, felt something hard under his cloak. She glanced down and saw the hilt of a sword, barely visible.

She turned her face towards his again, confused.

His grey eyes seemed to search her own for a while, his face bearing an unreadable expression. It was impossible to guess what he was thinking. Melina wondered what he was even doing here, why had he come up again, why in the garden...had he been looking for her?

She was still unable to move, entranced by his presence, his scent and the warmth of his body standing so close to hers. She felt him move, but could not react. His head bent down down and, amidst the rain, she felt his warm lips place a kiss on top of her head.

A violent shiver ran down her spine, replaced quickly by an unbelievable warmth. Though the rain never stopped, Melina did not feel it anymore. She was neither cold, nor wet; not afraid, nor pained.

As she closed her eyes to better enjoy the moment, she felt tears begin to fall. There could never have been more beautiful moment in her life. She felt it. She felt Glorfindel's feelings pour into her heart, his love for her. An unadulterated love; the love of a brother to a sister, a father to a daughter...a friend to another.

The knowledge that such a creature as this Eldar could possibly have a place in his wonderful heart for her, nearly broke Melina's own. It was more than anything she could have ever wished for from another living being, and he was giving it to her.

Her mind wandered to that night in the garden, nearly a week ago, when she had stumbled here, broken and terrified. There had been someone there for her, someone who had helped her.

And in the morning, Melina had been certain this person had been Glorfindel. She could not have explained to anyone why she thought so, she had simply assumed.

But now, standing here, she knew it had not been Glorfindel.

Again, she would never be able to explain how she knew...she simply did. These people...these Eldars, it was impossible to mistake one for another, even with your eyes closed. They felt different, they filled your very soul with a different kind of warmth, each unique to their being. Searien, for example, made Melina feel peaceful and calm.

And though she had never been as close as this to any of the other angels, she always felt their strange auras tingle at the edge of her mind.

That night in the garden...it was not comparable to how she felt now.

Melina opened her eyes after what seemed like an hour. She opened them slowly, her body still under the strange spell Glorfindel had cast on her. She turned her head up, expecting to see him...but he was gone.

All at once she felt cold, frozen, darkened and alone. She took in a shaking breath, and another, then a third before she began to run.

Flying down corridors, leaping over stair ways, pushing through the growing darkness, Melina headed for the stables. She had no scruples in pushing, shoving and screaming at the people in the dense crowd, which now stood between her and the departing riders.

She could see their heads, standing high above all, slowly trotting away. She saw Glorfindel too, and for a moment she was certain he stared right into her eyes as she jumped and pushed in order to try and get to him. But he turned around and began to move away with the others.

Finally Melina broke through, but by then Glorfindel and Asfaloth were already far away.

Stunned and confused, Melina could only stand there, dumbstruck. The rain pelted her from every direction, and she could see the darkness slowly creeping closer, advancing faster as Glorfindel's bright aura slowly disappeared.

She was alone again. Abandoned. The words Gandalf had spoken to her before his departure echoed in her ears like a bad joke. It was not Gandalf's voice which now whispered the beautiful words, it was the Devil. He mocked her, mocked her misery and reminded her that no matter how far she ran, how carefree she felt, he would always find a way to break her soul and ruin her life.

One shadow crept closer than all the others. She saw his hand move to her abdomen, but was too slow to stop it, a sharp blade dug into her soft flesh, piercing through her dress easily. She screamed.

The golden light, which was only a speck in her vision now, stopped and she saw silver eyes turn to her, full of sorrow...Gandalf, she thought, but another blow,caused her to tumble backwards, blurring her vision with rain.

She fell. Fell into the thick mud; but before she could struggle up again, a figure overtook her from behind. Though she instinctively knew it was not a demon, Melina shied away from the warmth. It was not Glorfindel...it was not Gandalf...and it was certainly not Searien.

A strong arm suddenly encircled her waist, where she was certain was now a gashing wound, and another hand press against her forehead. She had no struggle left in her, no reason to fight the soft touch. She breathed in and out a few times, her nostrils filling with the smell of flowers and water, and surprisingly not with mud and muck. It was altogether too familiar and again Melina was reminded of the night in the garden.

This was him. The person who had helped her, who she still felt sometimes in the midst of her nightmares, offering her a hand to safety.

She felt lips approach her frozen ear, and soft words were whispered into it. Though she did not want to, Melina listened to the voice and felt herself calm down. Slowly, she became limp, and soon she felt like a rag-doll, unable to move a muscle.

She felt her body being picked up, and a warm cloak draped over her. There were many voices now, she recognized none of them. She wondered if Searien was nearby, but her throat was too dry to speak.

They were carrying her away. Melina was concentrating hard on staying awake, though she felt so tired. She watched, over the arm securely holding her neck, the corridors and stairs pass by under her. They were taking her to her room.

It somehow did not occur to her to look up and see in who's arms she was in until she felt a warm bed meet her wet back.

Then, as he lowered her down gently and carefully, sitting down on the bed after he did so; reaching out and picking up a cloth soaked in hot water and refreshing her cold face...

Melina recognized Lord Elrond.

* * *

Thanks again to coming!


	8. Gift

**Author's Note: **Thanks again to my Beta Lisa! Love you. And all you guys who take the time to review, you guys mean the world to me! --hugs and kisses and Legolas' for all of you!!-- I keep Glorfindel to myself though...Please let me know of any grammar mistakes and such.

**Chapter 8**

"_Each day provides its own gifts."  
-__Anonymous_

_October 19__th, 3018_

_My nights is (scratch, blotch) are better. Today I will see Arwen again. The lessons are getting harder, Bilbo give me more work. _

_(pause blotch)_

_I miss G (large scribble, word ineligible)_

* * *

Melina sat on the bench in the garden she had adopted as her own, the statue of Luthien her only company, and stared at nothing.

It was surprising how long someone could stare at nothing and not get bored, annoyed or frustrated. "Nothing" was, in fact, more interesting than most things. At least, Melina thought as much.

She was aware that time was passing. Soon she would get up and make her way to the hall of fire, though she might get some lunch first, and continue her lessons with Bilbo. They were going well. There was plenty of nothing to stare out in the hall of fire as well, but she mostly tried to keep her attention on the talking Hobbit – it was hard.

Not that Bilbo was boring, well he mostly was not, but Melina was having the hardest time concentrating on anything of late. Everything just seemed so bland in comparison with nothingness.

_Or too frightening_, the annoying voice whispered in the back of her mind.

Melina waved her hand in an attempt to physically remove the source of the voice, she doubted it worked, but she had to try. That was how her bad moments happened, when she listened to the voice, and thought...and concentrated on everything that was...

The young, yet not so, woman shook her head violently, closing her eyes and grabbing her hair as she did so.

"Nothing, nothing," she muttered, feeling her throat tighten and her eyes sting. "Oh...no"

A loud sob escaped her shaking body and she heard someone shuffle closer. She knew who it was, and she cursed under her breath, wanting to have nothing to do with the man. A pair of strong hands grabbed her shoulders tightly and though Melina tried to pull away, she knew it was futile.

The Lord of Imladris was not to be escaped from.

Frustrated and angry that she had broken apart for the second time already today, Melina opened her black rimmed, bloodshot eyes and stared at the breath-taking face looking at her.

"What!?" she snapped in Sindarin. "What" was a very essential word in any language, and Melina felt a lot more confident having it finally in her vocabulary.

There was a sigh. He frowned and let his hands fall off, but remained in his kneeling position.

_Why wouldn't he just leave me alone!_ she groaned to herself, but slowly felt the turmoil inside of her settle down. Which made her even more frustrated.

He said something to her, slowly and articulated, from which she understood her own name, something along the line of "be alright" and guessed there was some sort of time reference. Melina huffed a not too comical chuckle and replied in English:

"Right...you always say that! All of you! With your...your..." Melina groaned again in frustration, she just could not do it. Looking into his perfect eyes, hairless skin, silky hair and soft lips...it was impossible to insult him.

"You know what?" she continued, more quietly, "Never mind..." she then passed a hand over her face and groaned a third time, "Sorry." this last she spoke in the new language.

Elrond smiled, that stunning, heart warming smile and stood up, but instead of leaving he twirled and lowered himself on the bench beside her.

Melina glared at him, willing him to simply get up and leave her alone. They were always watching her now, Elrond and Searien. Whenever Melina thought she was alone, and began to breakdown, one of them would materialise out of nowhere and comfort her.

Though incredibly frustrating, Melina had to admit that it helped. She felt, slowly, the troubled and broken part of her mind gather in one place. It was easily controlled this way, Melina could lock the mental door to the problematic room and throw away the key. She was less and less aware of the horrid memories or, rather, the emotions associated with them.

As long as she did not think about it too much, she could pretend to me a normal woman.

Good things _had_ happened since Glor...Melina cringed and quickly diverted her train of thoughts, aware that Elrond was watching her. Since _that_ day, she continued mentally.

She had met one of Elrond's relatives, Lady Arwen. Melina was not certain to which degree the two were related, but she guessed they were siblings, probably even twins, so alike they seemed.

Meeting Arwen had been...it was difficult to put a word to the encounter. It had happened the morning after _that _day.

* * *

Melina had been showing little interest in Bilbo's lesson that morning, not feeling good at all - standing in the freezing rain for so long had landed her a nasty cold, on top of the emotional turmoil. Noticing her pathetic state, Searien had decided to take her for a walk. Melina had realized quickly that Searien had a particular destination in mind, but had truly felt too weak to show much curiosity. They had walked up a few flights of stairs and headed for the section of the house in which Elrond, and a few others, had their studies.

_Glorfindel had showed me his study..._

The thought of the angel had darkened Melina's mood even more and she was now getting angry at Searien for dragging her around the house when all she wanted was to hide under her covers and never come out.

Melina had been to preoccupied with her brooding thoughts to notice that they were in fact approaching a group of six or so women. She only became aware of the company, sitting around in a circle under a beautifully decorated gazebo, when she was face to face with the mistress of the group - Arwen.

The dark haired angel, perfect beyond imagination, was watching her curiously while exchanging a few words of greetings with Searien. All at once Melina forgot about everything that had happened the previous day and suddenly felt rejuvenated. The presence of the Lady was intoxicating. Melina had dreamt of that moment almost every single night since and she knew she would never ever forget it.

Words could not, in any language, no matter how eloquent, describe the fairness of the Lady Arwen; nor the music in her voice, or the depth of her eyes. Her aura was overpowering, comparable only to the Lord Elrond himself, such strength, and yet such gentleness it invoked in Melina's mind. This was a woman destined for greatness, it was undeniable, it clung to her being. She was a queen, a Lady, a goddess on earth if there ever was one.

It was some time before Melina was able to look away from the Lady's eyes and concentrate on Searien's voice as her friend introduced her to the Lady Arwen. Somehow related to the Lord Elrond of Imladris and also known as Arwen Evenstar.

"My Lady." she stuttered in Sindarin.

The Lady smiled at Melina's speech, bearing a row of perfect, white teeth. Her smile sent shivers down Melina's spine, making her feel like dissolving into a puddle of mush.

They were shown to a couple of free seats, which Melina took gratefully, not trusting her knees anymore. Arwen took her own seat again, merely two away from Melina herself. She felt her heart pounding against her ribcage by simply knowing the Lady was so close. Searien, who was seated immediately to the right of Arwen, was given a bundle by one of the other ladies.

Melina then realized that the women here were not simply sitting around, they were working. All of the six women, now seven with Searien, were tailoring. Some seemed to be working on embroidery, others on clothing, and Arwen herself was braiding fresh flowers. Searien pulled out a embroidering kit from the bundle she had been handed and immediately began to expertly wield needle and thread.

Memories buried deep in her mind, from her previous life, shook free as she watched the women work and chat. She had learned how to tailor and do embroidery a long, long time ago. Before any of these women were born, she was certain. Having been born in the early 20th century, in on of those low, yet once apparently important, "our title gives us nothing except the right to hold our noses up and the money that comes with it" noble families, Melina had suffered all kinds of childhood cruelties...embroidery had been one of them.

She had continued knitting and needlepoint throughout her life, though not quite because it gave her much pleasure, but mostly because it had long been drilled to her that she should, as a lady of society, do so. She had been good, too. Probably could have been great had she actually enjoyed it. Or so her maid had told her time and time again. Unfortunately, Melina's needle wielding age came to an abrupt end once she was sent to the nursing home. After she had stabbed one of the nurses with a needle she had been banned from the knitting club.

Now, watching the up and down movements of the needles, Melina's hand itched to try it all over again.

Arwen was the one who noticed Melina's eager eyes first, and after whispering something to Searien, a bundle was passed around and offered to her. Melina took it gratefully, taking her time to admire the thread work on the bag itself before undoing the delicate knot and avidly taking out the equipment in contained. It had everything she needed. Needle of various sizes, no knitting ones though, thread in all the colours of the rainbow, and a large white virgin cloth on which she could unleash her ministrations.

"Thank you." she whispered in Sindarin, barely looking up from the gift.

She heard some chuckles and perhaps something sounding like a "you're welcome", but she was already pulling out the white cloth and trying to determine what she was going to do it with it. It had taken her an hour before she had applied the first colour to her cloth; but after that she had worked on it fervently.

Melina and Searien had stayed with the ladies all day long; their lunch had been served at the gazebo and it was only for dinner that the group parted. Melina wondered how come Arwen was never at any of the meals, but, of course, she could not ask...and she was not certain she would even if she could. Needless to say that the Lady intimidated her more than anyone else in this house.

Melina and Searien had returned to the gazebo a couple of times since the first, and Melina's art project was progressing. She was very insecure about it all and had not let any of the other women examine her work to closely, afraid of what they might think. She certainly did not think she could compete with the talent those women had for the hobby; their work was breath taking - and Melina was going to be the recipient of one of their creations.

It had happened just before Searien and herself were leaving on their second visit, Arwen had smiled broadly and asked Melina to stand up. Blushing furiously, she had obeyed the Lady and was confused when Arwen had produced some sort of measuring tape. Another woman had then approached with six different coloured cloths slung around her arms. Before she knew what was happening, Melina was being measured.

Though it was Arwen holding the tape, Melina had jerked away violently when the Lady had first touched her. There had been an awkward moment then, and Melina apologized quickly, though it seemed none was necessary. The process had started again, albeit a lot slower and Melina was able to brace herself throughout the hole thing. It was obvious that some sort of clothing was going to be made for her, in wine red apparently, and she was pretty certain it was to be a dress.

* * *

Melina turned to her companion sitting on the bench, who was now reading some book, looking very relaxed; even Lord Elrond intimidated her less than Arwen. Perhaps it was the male/female thing. She shrugged.

Elrond stopped reading to look at her, noticing probably that she was now impolitely staring at him, but he did not look annoyed, simply curious. Melina felt she owed him an explanation nevertheless.

"Arwen." she said, pointing to her head, hoping to indicate that she was thinking about the maiden.

Elrond smiled at the name, a carring, slightly possessive, expression showed in his eyes for a moment. Melina wondered how it was to be the relative of someone as striking as Arwen, how protective Elrond must feel for his probable sister. Melina certainly had quickly, immediately really, fallen in love with the woman; she could not imagine having to grow up with her. Arwen was the kind of woman you wanted to encase in glass, simply to preserve her beauty and innocence. _I wonder how many suitors a woman such as her would have_, Melina thought. _Either hundreds, or none._

The man started speaking then, slowly in order for her to at least understand some words; but Melina felt that what he was saying was more meant for himself than for her. At least, she felt as much until he looked straight into her eyes with an expression of endless sorrow and, perhaps, guilt. It was a strange mix, coming from someone as grand as Lord Elrond, and it certainly did not befit him...just as it had not befitted Gandalf.

The similarity between the two men was striking, not physically, but in the way they held themselves and their eyes. They both seemed to have such heavy burdens to carry, as if everything bad that happened in the world was their fault. Melina felt the familiar tightening of her chest as she listened to Elrond speak. She did not understand him. Words like _knowledge_, _past_ and a few questioning tones she could translate, but she had no idea what the big picture was...nor what he was trying to ask. She was confused, and her expression must have showed it for Elrond suddenly returned to his neutral majestic expression, as if nothing happened.

He then looked down at his book again, hesitated for a moment, before opening it and apparently engrossing himself in whatever it contained.

Melina sighed loudly, but it invoked no reaction from her companion. These angels, Eldars, were just a big, fat enigma which she would never understand. She knew that even if she learned the language, which would take a few more months, she would not be able to solve all the mysteries that were accumulating daily. So many questions.

She tried to file them all away in her head; words, relations, whole sentences she had memorized in order to later be able to make sense of them. But her head was slowly overflowing with mysteries. Some were more important than others, some more complicated, but she wanted to know the answer to them all.

One of the questions that was currently on her mind was the appearance of a new group of angels, travelers, that had come into the House recently. She wondered what they were doing here, where they had come from, what were the stories they sung about at dinner, and who on earth had thought it a good idea to create the Eldar Legolas Greenleaf.

Melina had met Legolas the evening after her meeting with Arwen.

* * *

It was dinner time and Melina was walking towards the hall with Searien, as always.

Melina had not attended dinner the night before, having felt too weak to sit with such a crowd, and also not wanting to deal with the empty seat she knew would be beside her. This evening though, having had a good day thus far, she had decided to brave the hall.

All her resolve vanished, however, when she noticed that someone, a complete stranger, was sitting in Glorfindel's chair. The chair besides the stranger, the one she had sat in since her arrival, remained empty, but Melina hesitated. Had she not only been allowed at Elrond's table because Glorfindel was accompanying her? She turned to Searien, but the woman was already heading for another table, the one she usually sat at during dinner.

Melina made a quick decision and followed after Searien. She was, after all, her only friend in this House and she certainly felt more comfortable around someone familiar. But she had not taken two steps when Searien whirled around gracefully, albeit wide-eyed, and stopped Melina in her tracks. The woman stared at the angel, confused, but her friend only pointed at the high table, offering a comforting smile, before turning around again; leaving Melina alone in the middle of the room. A cold sweat formed at the base of her neck.

Petrified, Melina felt her feet move though her mind was rapidly shutting off. She could feel everyone staring at her, though she refused to look around. Slowly, and dreadfully, she made her way to the high table, wanting only to dig herself into her chair and forget about the whole incident. She considered running out of the hall, but she was hungry after all.

Once in front of her chair, Melina let out of yelp of surprise, which she blamed on her tense old nerves, when the stranger lept from his chair with surprising ease and pulled her seat. The man, though he had frowned for a fraction of a second at her scream, now bore a smug look. Melina noticed he was handsome, attractive...ridiculously attractive, but all she wanted to do at that moment was bitch slap the idiot. How dare he treat her poor old nerves with such disrespect!

One again, Melina realized she was making a fool of herself by glaring at the gentleman instead of taking the offered seat. _Too much humiliation for one night_, she thought grimly and felt her cheek redden as she quickly slumped in her chair.

The man took his own seat again, but he did not dig into his food as she had expected, instead he stared at her with the same smug look. Feeling like her entire body was going to burst into flames, Melina glared back at the blue eyed man. Trying to put as much fierceness and anger in her Hazel eyes as possible. She knew that the scars on her face would probably ruin the look, but she hoped they might give her an enraged expression. Like all those men in the stories, with their battle scars and fierce looks.

Unfortunately, the man's smile did not waver. Instead, he casually turned to Lord Elrond, his neighbour, and asked a question. Lord Elrond, who had been about to take a drink, put down his glass and smiled. One of those big toothy smile which made Melina extremely uncomfortable, not the least because Elrond stared directly at her before answering the man's question. She understood her name, and some other words that sounded like a date, or something like a time reference. Both men then turned to her, and Melina realized she was being formerly introduced.

"Lady Melina," she heard Elrond use the annoying title - Arwen was a Lady, not her, "I present to you Lord Legolas Greenleaf of Mirkwood."

At least, Melina thought that is what the introduction sentence must have been. She was not sure of the exact translation of a few words, but that was the basic of any introduction really. _Mirkwood...now that's an interesting name_, she thought. _A bit less romantic sounding than Imladris. _

Now introduced, Legolas turned to her again, with his amazing smile, and shamelessly took her hand from its resting place on the table and placed a kiss on its back. Melina was too slow to prevent anything and she could only try and rub away the burning sensation after he released her hand. Now more stressed and on edge than she had felt in a long time, Melina tried to eat her meal.

It was hard. That silly man kept giving her glances while he picking at his plate and chatting away with Lord Elrond about, she was certain, herself. It was frustrating not be able to able understand what someone was saying about you, but as she watched Lord Elrond's expression, she somehow felt certain that he was not divulging any private information. Their talk did seem to turn towards a more serious discussions though, one Lord Elrond did not seem too comfortable with. She noticed him giving her quite a few glances as he replied to the questions Legolas posed to him.

And so did the dinner pass by. Slowly, excruciatingly, but pass it did. When the plates were pushed away and the singing began, Melina thought she was saved. She thought wrong.

Legolas had other plans. Plans which involved Melina's most dreaded activity: dancing.

"No, oh no..please." Melina pleaded, in Sindarin, but the Eldar seemed deaf.

He took her hand and pulled her up, dragging her to the makeshift dance floor and swung her around. Melina had glared at him the entire time. No matter how charming he thought he was, she was not impressed. _We are NOT impressed!_ she thought and snorted, making Legolas think she was actually enjoying herself which made him look even more smug.

He _WAS _charming though, it could not be denied. He was not handsome in the way Glorfindel was; he was also not interesting like Gandalf, nor did he commend the kind of respect Elrond did, but he WAS charming. She could not help but feel fluffy inside as he twirled, pulled, pushed and skipped around the dance floor with her in his arms. By the end of it, though she would not admit it to herself as she left for bed that night, she was smiling. It was impossible to resist, the man made you smile. That was him. He was a big smile. And an addictive one at that. Everyone else was smiling too. _We all look like we smoked,_ Melina thought, remembering the many gatherings where her extended family joined together and smoked opium. She had been too young to consume of course, but she remembered the drug induced smile...this was just like that!

* * *

Elrond shifted besides her, bringing Melina back to reality. He was still looking down at his book, but he had a deep frown and she felt certain he was doing more thinking than actually reading. Finally he closed his book with a snap that made Melina jump slightly, and stood up. He bowed, whispering a farewell and walked bristly out of the garden. Melina stayed put for a while long, looking back into the nothingness, but she was aware that she was overdue for her lessons.

There were no clocks to tell her so, of course, and she certainly did not know how to read the time from the sun, but she was overdue nonetheless. Standing up and stretching her cramped limbs, Melina began to make her way, slowly, towards the hall of fire.

She would go to the kitchens first, he stomach told her this was the right thing to do and she knew Bilbo would be hungry as well. Some nice hot tea would also not go amiss.

The weather in Imladris was as fine as always. There always seemed to be good weather here, except for _that_ day, Melina had seen no rain, no rain clouds either. Not much wind but the breeze which made the leaves dances and the trees shiver.

The trees. They were getting ever more beautiful as fall settled in the valley. The leaves of most of them had turned already, giving the valley, and the house, a new hip look. Yellow, red, purple and evergreen painted a beautiful pallet on which one could feast their eyes for hours. There were still flowers too, the weather was certainly warm enough. Late bloomers it seemed.

Fall only seemed to confirm Melina's impression that the house was alive. It was like seeing someone age.

The House's voices were singing a new song today as well, one tune she had not yet heard before. Melina had, after _that_ day, made it one of her projects to learn about the origin of the songs which filled the House from morning until night. She had found them too, a few days after _that_ day.

* * *

They had to be somewhere. Everything had to be somewhere, that was the essence of life itself.

But it had been three days now since _his_ departure and she still could not find where the singers held their daily choir. She had searched, and searched for a total of four hours now, taking any opportunity she had to run around and attempt to pinpoint the origin of the voices.

It was hard. It would have been hard only from the sheer size of the house; but the echo of the valley and the thundering noise of the waterfall only made it harder. _More like impossible_, she thought as she heaved up the tenth flight of stairs. The voices HAD to come from above. She had come to that conclusion first, because she had searched everywhere else, and second because that is how the voices were easily carried throughout the House, and probably the entire valley.

The House, its strange architecture with all its trees and statues, seemed never ending. Sure there were some exits, but some places just seemed to go on and on. These stairs seemed to go on and on.

It was impossible, from the lower floors, to guess how high the House actually went. It had been built against the sloping side of the valley and was rarely actually more than two storeys high, but covered extensive ground; which was tilted upwards. If everything had been built like a normal building, Melina guessed it would have equalled a 20 or so storey high apartment tower. It was huge. _Did I mention HUGE!_ Melina thought as she yet again came upon more stairs.

Somehow though, the voices were growing louder. Melina had thought the voices had grown louder a few times before, but this time they REALLY were getting louder, she was sure of it. It was not a trick of echos nor was it the humming of some Gardner, this was the actual choir.

More stairs and three corridors later, Melina finally passed under a thick, still green hedge with an arch, and came upon a beautiful enclave overlooking the entire valley.

The view, even from her position, was breathtaking. But what really caught her eyes, were the singers. There were there!! Eight of of them, with their backs turned to her, standing and chanting their beautiful Eldar songs. Melina stood there for a while, simply listening to them, wondering if she knew any of the singers, when she noticed a bench only two feet to her right.

As quietly as she could, she slid on the bench and closed her eyes, allowing herself to be lulled by the musical voices.

She must have sat there for hours before, finally, the voices stopped. It was the end of the third song, time for lunch. Melina suddenly wondered what the Eldars would think of her sitting there, shamelessly watching them sing while they were unaware. Wanting to escape before they spotted her, she opened her eyes and started to get up when she noticed that the singers were all staring at her. _Oh, great!_ she cringed inwardly, feeling her cheeks reddening.

"I am so sorry!" she mumbled in broken Sindarin.

The singers looked at each other and one of them smiled broadly to her, shaking his beautiful head gently.

"'Tis no problem." he said slowly, exaggerating each word so she might understand.

Melina nodded, but left immediately, feeling ashamed nonetheless. She would never, ever, would have returned had it not been for one of the singers running after her and stopping her escape by grabbing her arm. The touch sent a jolt through her body and a yelp escaped her lips before she could stop it. The man released her arm automatically, his eyes wide and his lips mouthing a series of apologies, but Melina's ears were ringing and she heard none of it. It took her a moment to regain her bearings and push away the memories that threaten to take over her mind.

When, finally, she was able to concentrate on the man's words again, he had changed topic.

"Please. Come again." he said simply, probably aware that she would not understand anything more complicated, though he attempted to flesh out his request with emotions conveyed by his brown eyes.

"Maybe..." Melina mumbled in English, and then she repeated it louder in Sindarin. "Maybe..."

The Eldar nodded, watched her for a moment longer, before he turned and walked towards the enclave once again.

* * *

Melina HAD returned, four times now since. She had noticed that the singers were never the same, and that most of the Eldars in the House seemed to be able to sing beautifully. She had seen Searien up there once, as well as Arwen. Watching and listening to Arwen sing, a long and beautiful solo, had made Melina's heart ache for something she could not describe. She longed to see a place, somewhere she was sure she had never been, yet she felt tears in her eyes simply knowing she had not seen it.

That night, Melina had dreamt of a strange place. A land filled with golden fields, shiny trees and glorious buildings. The kind she could never have imagined. All through the dream Melina heard Arwen's voice, and yet it was not her voice. The music came from a statue which, upon closer inspecting, revealed itself to be the statue of Luthien from Melina's garden. There were other figures too, people Melina had never seen, and two she knew all too well: Glorfindel and Gandalf. There were seated together, in one of the golden fields, talking and listening to the fair lady sing her sorrowful song, but they never noticed her.

The dream had left a strange feeling in Melina after she had woken up. She remembered that the evening before she had snuck into the kitchen for an after dinner snack, a first since her arrival, but she was somehow starving after all the dancing with the smug Eldar, and had found a delicious golden bread in the kitchen. She wondered if the food had not induced the dream. Her mother had always said food could do that.

Melina was looking at the same bread now, wondering if she should risk eating more. It had been filling, she remembered, but decided against it for now. Instead she picked out two apples from one of the fruit bowls, filled one small bowl with nuts and added two cups of hot tea on the tray before she left the kitchen, mumbling a goodbye to the busy cooks as she did.

The dinning hall was mostly empty, except for two small groups of people there early, lounging around. Most of the Eldars did not seem to work. Or at least, if they did, it was not around the House. She had seen gardners of course, as well as Arwen's tailors, and Glorfindel had worked in his study, but there were no stores here, no markets or the such. No fishermen either, though she had seen Eldars swimming in the river as well as boating and no woodcutters. Bowmen she had also seen, practicing down in the archery pit, but no one hunted. She had never seen meat here, nor fur or any other animal product.

She had not seen money either. More questions, always more questions. Her world was full of questions and no answers. Her hands clutched the tray tighter as she made her way to the hall of fire with a decisive step. Every word she learned with Bilbo, every silly exercise and every boring story brought her closer to the answers she desperately needed. One day she would answer most of them, by herself too, if she could remember them until then. Some of them were already slipping her mind...like what Gandalf had said to her that night.

Melina stopped one step shy from opening the door to the hall of fire. _No_, she thought, _I remember this...this is important_. Her eyes were wide with the shock of finding her memory so lacking, this was impossible. She had recited those words a dozen times a night since she had woken up in Imladris. She had dreamt of those words during the Blackout. She knew these words.

The content of the tray began to shake as she struggled to bring back the words from the depth of her troubled mind.

_Gandalf laid a hand on her head, his fingers entwining in her bushy hair; he then bent down towards her and whispered something she was not able to understand…frustration rose in her heart, and panic. In the midst of her increasing heart beat, shallow breath and flowing tears, she forced her mind to burn those words into memory so that one day she would understand them. And then he was gone…just like that; he sat up straight again, nodded towards the stranger and motioned his horse to a mad sprint, leaving her behind._

Suddenly she had them, they played in her ears as if she had just heard them. Though they made as little sense as ever, albeit she thought there was mayhap an apology in the words.

Now comforted that she still had this very important piece of her past with her, Melina took a very deep breath and opened the door. As she did so she saw Bilbo jump up from his position on one of the large cushions with an expression of shock mixed with happiness on his face. She thought, at first, that his reaction was directed at her, until she heard a voice speak from the left, where she knew was another, more direct, entry to the hall of fire.

"Bilbo!!" The voice thundered and a cold chill ran through her skinny body.

The Hobbit hopped and ran towards the newcomer, his arms wide open, and Melina followed his line of sight, though she wanted very much not to.

All at once her fingers loosened and the tray began an unnaturally slow fall to the ground below. The sound of shattering porcelain and bouncing apple barely drowned the sound of Bilbo's old, cheery scream:

"Gandalf!!"

* * *


	9. Woman

**Author's Note:** Hello to all! I am not dead, dying, nor have I abandoned the story.

First, I want to thank everyone who is sticking around through the few and far apart updates; I hope you will until the end.

Second, I owe you some explanation for my lack of writing. As some of you know, I have been forced to learn German (every day, between June and December) in order to get my residency visa. I am pleased to announce the end of those lessons, though I am not quite yet in possession of the precious piece of document. I have to wait to get my exam results. *crosses fingers*

And a million thanks to all the reviewers, special thanks to Alaenor-Skybir simply because your review is the drop that overfilled the glass. It kicked me back into gear, and let me write this in less than a day.

**Chapter 9**

"_Being a woman is a terribly difficult task since it consists principally in dealing with men._"

_-__Joseph Conrad_ _(1857 - 1924)_

The crashing sound of breaking dishes died down quickly, leaving a heavy silence in its wake. Melina inhaled once, twice, and she blinked half a dozen time, but Gandalf did not disappear. When her mind began to function again, she found herself in a chaos of emotions and conflicting reflexive reactions. She wanted to cry and run away, laugh and hug him, scream and hit him; all these things and more.

Her confusion forced her to do nothing at all and she stood still with her lips opening and closing slowly. She watched as Gandalf turned to Bilbo and whispered something in the old man's ear. Her teacher nodded, gave her a confused and compassionate look, before he slowly walked out of his favourite dwelling.

Feeling was returning to Melina's limb as Gandalf watched Bilbo leave the room. Her legs twitched and she managed to take one step backwards. Her muscles were contracting for a full about turn, and she would have ran, if his blue eyes had not shot up and connected with her own. Her limbs relaxed immediately, leaving her in a strange, uncomfortable, half turned position, but she could not find the strength to redress herself. She felt her teeth sink deeply into her lips as she attempted to regain control of her uncooperative body. Every fibre of her being was telling her to spit at him and turn her back, to have him run after her and beg her forgiveness, but still she did not move.

It was those eyes.

Those same eyes that had stirred her in ways she had never before imagined inside that cursed tower. Eyes that seem so old, older than his white beard, his wrinkles, older than anything Melina had ever seen. The pain contained in those eyes only seemed to have increased since she had last looked upon them. Her heart ached with compassion and against all odds she felt herself walking forward.

Her stomach violently recoiled as she lifted her arms to greet his embrace. She was supposed to hate him...but her limbs were not listening to reason. It was not until she was buried within his heavy robes, with his surprisingly strong arms around her frame, that the spell broke. Melina blinked furiously against the rough fabric, awakening from whatever trance had possessed her and she attempted to step back. She barely managed a centimetre before his hold on her tightened and breathing became difficult.

Though her voice was muffled and bits of dirt and cloth entered her mouth, Melina screamed at the top of her lungs words that were doomed not to be understood:

"You left me!"

She screamed it once, twice, after a while she lost count, but still she screamed it. It did not make her feel better; did not release her anger or ease the pain, but still she screamed. His fingers were bruising her back, and her ribs felt close to shattering, but his hold on her never wavered.

Less and less air made its way into her lungs and her screams turned into whispers. Some sort of fabric eventually sent her into a coughing fit, after which she was finally silent; her throat too painful to use.

Very slowly her breathing began to even out, and as the waves of anger receded, she began to cry. Her tears were silent and soothing, and she felt her fingers clutch at his cloak, pulling him impossibly closer. The realization that Gandalf had, as she had hardly dared hope, returned, was sinking in. It had taken what now seemed an incredible amount of time, but he was there again. In this man, she was certain, resided the answers to most of her questions; or rather, to the most important ones. This man, for all she was aware, was the only one who knew what had happened to her, the only one that had shared her pain at the hand of the Devil, the one who had saved her and given her the first true human contact since her rebirth.

Melina did not hate this man.

It was a hard truth to face. He had, after everything he had given her, abandoned her. And something within her mind dearly wanted to hate him; but she could not.

A long time after her tears had dried, and her body had calmed, Melina felt the arms around her loosen. Gandalf took a step back, his retreating hands shaking slightly as he squeezed her shoulders gently. She looked up slowly, her cheeks tear stained but her eyes dry, and felt her lips turn into a thin smile and her face go red. He smiled back, though it did not cover the exhaustion marking his features. He seemed smaller than before, his face having lost some of its power, leaving behind the wrinkles of an old man. She had not noticed before, but his hair seemed whiter and unkempt, and where she saw skin it was stained with grime.

A frown began to dig itself in her brow. Gandalf let out a loud sigh, his fingers squeezing her shoulders again, before he took another step back and dropped both arms. Melina opened her mouth, but before anything could be spoken she heard someone enter the Hall.

"Lady Melina," came the melodious voice of Lord Elrond, his greeting accompanied by a quick bow.

Melina only looked at him, her frown still plastered on her brow. Her fingers twitched a reflexive greeting, but she doubted the angel noticed. His attention was turned immediately to Gandalf and quick words filled with hurry and pain were exchanged. Bilbo slowly walked in then and both men stopped talking, casting compassionate looks towards the old Hobbit. Melina knew something very important was happening, but like everything else in this world, she was forced by language into ignorance. As quickly as he had entered, Lord Elrond bid his farewell and departed, Gandalf only a few meters on his heels. The man in grey did cast her an apologetic look before he hugged Bilbo again and made a hasty retreat.

She told herself that his look had promised longer, better moments together, and of course his presence at dinner later...but it was only her heart being hopeful – her mind told her that he was a busy man with some kind of problem to solve. It would not surprise her if both him and Elrond were absent that evening. But she hoped...still she dared hope that he was in Imladris to stay, or least an extended period of time. That he had come back especially for her, because of his promise to her.

Her frown never left her face as she slowly bent down, picked up the broken pieces of porcelain and gently placed them in the tray. Her movements were slow and deliberate, each extension of her arms done with extreme calculation. She devoted her entire attention to the task of returning to the kitchen, apologizing a thousand times, and preparing another tray of tea. She allowed herself another long moment to mop the spilled tea on the delicate tiles and by the time she finally settled besides Bilbo for her lessons, her heart had finally slowing into a normal rhythm.

But her lessons did not go well. Her body may have been lulled into calmness, but her mind ran wild. She tried to imagine where he was now, experiencing strange tingles of excitement at the thought that he was in the same house, visiting the same rooms she had. He was probably in Elrond's office, sipping tea and smoking some of his much loved tobacco, of which he constantly smelled. Or perhaps he was refreshing himself after days of harsh travels, finding peace in a hot bath and clean clothes. It pained her to have him so close, and yet so far. All thoughts of the hate and pain were cast aside as the fear of an imminent departure counselled her into softer emotions.

Luckily her inattention did not seem to bother Bilbo. He had pulled out his book, the one she had seen him write in many a times, and was babbling on happily while pointing at certain passages excitedly. As the name "Gandalf" was mentioned every three sentences, Melina deduced that the two had some history together; and that parts of it might have been in that book. Curiosity about the past of her grey companion finally pulled her out of her reveries and she attempted to concentrate on the old man's stories. It was difficult. Bilbo was not paying attention to his pronunciation, nor was he speaking slowly as he would normally for her, but she did make out names of other companions that must have accompanied them.

It was not long after, probably exhausted by his unusual boost of energy, that Bilbo fell sound asleep. Knowing that the Hobbit would not be present at dinner, and therefore could be allowed to sleep as long as he wanted, Melina stole out of the hall and headed for her quarters. The sun was getting lower in the sky, indicating that she did not have long to wait for dinner. For the first time since Glorfindel had left, Melina had nothing other than happy thoughts in her mind. She was determined to dress as well as she could for the evening, and to take a long drawn bath.

She was pleased, if very surprised, to find Searien already in her room, preparing a bath.

"Good afternoon Melina," the angel greeted, herself clad in a rich grown of deep blue.

"And to you, my friend." Melina replied, frowning at the other woman's twinkling eyes. Feeling more comfortable with her friend than anyone else in the department of speaking, Melina decided to ask a few questions. "Gandalf is here; why?" subtlety had to be abandoned when one's vocabulary was so limited.

Searien lifted her perfect face and starred at her for a moment before replying:

"I do not know. He arrived today. He speaks with Lord Elrond now."

Melina nodded, but was disappointed that her friend knew nothing more than she. Her curiosity still not quite appeased, for why was Searien in her quarters so early, Melina asked:

"And why you are here now? With the bath? And new dress?" she pointed to the lovely gown hanging from the screen. It was maroon, with an over-coat of silver-blue. The long sleeves and high collar exactly to Melina's liking.

"Because Gandalf is here." Searien replied with a broad smile, displaying perfectly white teeth. She too had abandoned subtlety it seemed.

Melina blushed furiously and threw her friend a wide-eyed look. How in the world could Searien have guessed something Melina kept so close to her heart? But the angel giggled and any anger or humiliation melted from her mind. She could trust Searien to divulge nothing to anyone, though she wondered how many people might guess the extent of her feelings for the man in grey. Especially when she herself did not know the answer.

Contended to be pampered, Melina allowed herself to be undressed and bathed; as well as massaged, perfumed, braided and dressed. The whole process took double the time as would normally, but for once she enjoyed it. Searien kept up her usual habit of talking throughout the entire exercise, but this time Melina was certain she knew the topic and even picked out a meaning here and there.

"Gandalf is a very high Lord. Elrond and he know each other a long time. He will be at dinner tonight."

This last planted a permanent grin on Melina's face and she busied her mind trying to imagine the evening's seating. She wished with all her heart to placed nearby so that, though she might not be able to carry an intelligent conversation, she would at least benefit from his presence. Or maybe Gandalf's arrival would throw her out of her honoured place at the high table and she would have to contend with watching him from a distance. She was certain she could not sit through the night if such cruelty was thrown upon her.

They finally left her bedroom and arm in arm walked down to the large dinning hall. As usual they were neither the first, nor the last to arrive. Though more nervous than she would ever admit, Melina stared at the high table as soon as it came in view. Disappointment weighted so heavily on her shoulders at the sight of two empty seats that her knees buckled slightly. She turned to Searien for an explanation, and was half-relieved to hear her whisper:

"They come later...last."

Her friend then disentangled herself with a soft smile and walked away to her table. Melina, now semi-accustomed to walk the long stretch of floor alone, quickly made her way to her usual chair. She hid a grin of satisfaction when she noticed that Legolas had been moved from Lord Elrond's right to his left, and was now sitting across the table. He smiled up to her as she took her seat, pulled out for her by the man on her right which she thanked blushingly, and wished her a good evening.

"And to you, Lord Legolas;" she replied politely, elated beyond humiliation for her heavy accent. Her new found confidence pushed her to speak even more, "how are you today?"

"Very well, thank you."his smile was so large, lighting his face with merry beauty, that Melina wondered if he was capable of sadness, or anger. "Would you care for some wine tonight?"

Oh the carelessness of love...

"Yes, thank you." her voice was full of joy, more than anyone had ever heard her produce.

She took a sip of the bitter liquor slowly, found it pleasant in her palate, and took a second. The food had not yet arrived, and so she occupied her mind by fiddling with her cup while listening to Legolas and his neighbour speak.

When finally the Lord and his esteemed guest arrived, any tension Melina might have felt was numbed by the twice emptied wine cup. They entered the hall together, walking in unison as equals do. Everyone in the room stood up abruptly and elegantly, leaving Melina to shuffle out of her chair last and loudest. She might have also lost her footing had her neighbour not put out a helping hand. She thanked the man quietly, ashamed at the fact that she did not remember his name and promised herself to ask it from Legolas later on.

When both lords were finally in place, the entire hall sat in unison, this Melina did easily though she more fell than sat. The sudden movements made her head spin and she put a hand in front of her mouth to prevent anything from escaping. She was now becoming aware of her drunkenness, and cursed herself a million times mentally for her stupidity.

"Water..." she slurred when Legolas attempted to refill her glass with alcohol.

He smirked, his eyes shinning in innocent mockery, and obliged her wished, filling a second, larger goblet, with fresh water. She drank the entire thing in three swallows and put it down quickly for a second serving. By then the food was beginning to arrive and both Gandalf and Elrond were looking at her curiously.

Oh the shame...

She smiled weakly at them, but could not hide her bright red cheeks, nor the clumsiness of her hands. Luckily Legolas began to speak in a loud and melodious tone, sparing her one quick glance before launching into some story. She was able to down two more goblets of water and quite some bread before Gandalf returned his attention to her. By then, the edge of drunkenness had been taken off, though her bladder was very unhappy. Any uncomfortable feelings were forgotten however, when she turned to look at him.

She had been so busy not falling over earlier that she had missed the changes. He had indeed bathed, and groomed, and garbed himself in luxurious new clothes. Ages had been taken off of him it seemed, as well as weight. His robes were of a tighter fitting, and displayed an impressive stature instead of plump curves. Even his eyebrows had been tamed so that his eyes now seemed larger.

They studied each other for a long moment before he took her hand gently, she tensed visibly, and asked:

"How are you?"

She wanted to lie, to tell him she was fine, very well indeed, thank you. Much better than before, nothing at all to worry about; nightmares, what nightmares? She wanted to spare him the truth of her relapses, the chaos in her head, the voices and faces of demons. But the jerk of her body when he had touched her had already betrayed anything Elrond might not have already told him. She slumped her head, giving the white table cloth a very intense stare, and mumbled the polite lie:

"I am good, and you?"

He sighed, his breath tickling her temple, but he did not press the subject. It was hardly the proper place to speak openly. She was broken, he had known this and if he had expected her to make some kind of miracle recovery in her short time here, he would be sorely disappointed. She felt him squeeze her fingers tightly and heard a barely audible whisper:

"I am so sorry..."

She looked up, but he had turned away, his attention returned to the food before him and the merriment of Legolas...but his hand stayed. He ate adroitly with his left hand, keeping his right one securely attached to her left. Their entanglement hidden from view under the table. The touch sent shivers through her body, made butterflies soar in the gut, but she refused to let her face betray her emotions. She smiled, picked at her food, though she was not hungry, and replied to questions addressed directly at her.

The evening passed, too quickly it seemed, more so since Melina had already decided she was not going to stay for the dancing. She was tired, the day's event had drained her more than she had first thought, and the alcohol had done the rest. Gandalf's hand had removed itself when the food was taken away, and so she was free to make her exit. She waited until the singing began, and then excused herself before anyone could ask her to dance. They looked up as she stood, wished their goodnight, and returned to their conversations when she left.

She was happy.

It was a startling realization for a woman who had experienced sadness and anger for most of her life, but she was certain of it. The cool air energized her enough so that she decided to roam her Luthien garden before going to bed. She wanted time to review the images of today in her mind, finding pleasure in replaying the scene of his arrival. She discarded all emotions not related to happiness that she might have felt upon seeing him, and only remembered the pure, unadulterated joy. He had returned to her, and she could wish for nothing more...except Glorfindel's return.

Though perhaps not as deeply attached to the Eldar as she was to Gandalf, Melina missed her friend terribly. But she waved the sadness away, if one man could return, so would the other. Instead she concentrated on the good memories of hours spent in Glorfindel's study, attempting to read a story book at his feet while he worked on paperwork at his desk. Then she added Gandalf, standing perhaps at the window, smoking his pipe and looking over her once in a while. She decided that such a scene in reality would make her the happiest woman alive, and filed the plan away for its later realization.

After a few slow rounds in the small garden, Melina angled out and began the ascension to her room. She passed close enough to the hall to hear that the night was not nearing its end, and was almost tempted to return, but decided against it. She did not know if Gandalf danced, and if he did, she was too uncertain about her own skills to dance with him.

As she arrived to the open entrance of her quarters, Melina let out a loud yelp. Panic settled deep in her gut and she was suddenly surrounded by deformed demons, all of which were clawing at her dress. She screamed and flailed her arms, stumbling backwards and falling down in her haste to escape. Strong hands gripped her shoulders, and she closed her eyes against the terror of the Torturer.

"No...please...don't!" she screamed.

"Melina...Melina!"

The voice was far away, but she was not immune to its power. But as she moved towards it she fell again, this time into such deep darkness that it pressed against her body. She struggled against it, but she was frozen. A voice, such a familiar voice, screamed to her, but she did not understand its meaning...

"breath Melina....."

She cracked open her eyes....

"Melina breath!"

She saw a dark, bushy face starring at her...

"MELINA BREATH!"

And like a drowning woman breaking the surface, she inhaled sharply, relieving the burning sensation in her lungs.

Everything around her lit up, though it remained night. She saw his blue eyes shine brightly, though they were shadows all along. She threw herself upwards against his bright silver robes, though in this light they were black. But anything would seem brighter to a mind who witnessed such darkness.

"You are safe...quiet now..."

She did not cry, made no sound, but trembled. Reality pieced itself together and she realized that he had been sitting on her bed. Awaiting her return, for he had arrived to find her missing. She had been startled, that was all, by the unexpected visit. She slowly disentangled herself, humiliated by her violent reaction, and stood up – refusing his offered hand. She hated that he had seen her like this, weak, broken and so easily frightened.

So she walked past him, not gracing his apologetic eyes with a comment or a glance. She heard him follow behind her, but he stopped a respectable distance from the bed. She busied herself by taking off her jewelries, fumbling a few because of her trembling fingers. She reached up to undo her hair, but after the fifth failed attempt to untie her braids, she felt him move behind her, his fingers doing the work easily. She froze, tense and nervous, but allowed him to continue. She watched him in the mirror, but the lack of light prevented any distinction of expressions or features. They were shadows amongst shadows.

When finally he was done he shook free her hair, allowing it to cascade down her shoulders. She turned towards him slowly and looked up. But in the darkness he was little more than a beard with hair. Only his eyes, unnaturally bright, were discernible. She should say something, but could think of nothing. His eyes seemed to be searching for something, waiting for a comment of some sort. She frowned, wondering what she could possibly offer to him – he was a lord of equal, if not more, power than Elrond. What could he want from her? What did a master want from a dog? She was the lowest of the lowly, scarred, broken and confused beyond help.

But the answer came.

The answer came because she herself had been powerful, if retched. She had had a servant who, in earlier days, had came crawling back to her even after the most terrible of scolding. And she had looked up to Melina with those eyes, seeking what she had never given her. Acceptance...

Melina felt tears rolling down her face, invisible in the darkness. Silently she raised herself on the tip of her toes so that she stood only slightly below him. He did not move, did not seem to react, only watched. She searched his eyes for doubt, for a hint that she was mistaking, and found nothing but invitation. Angling forward, ever so slightly, she slowly dived into his scratchy beard to place a soft kiss on his wrinkled cheek.

Still he did not move, did not pull away in disgust. After a moment, though not before a few of her tears had fallen into his beard, she whispered in his ear:

"I forgive you." in her best Sindarin.

Suddenly his arms were around her, pulling her close and burying his face against her shoulder. He was quiet, gentle, made no demands and stepped back immediately when she loosened her arms. He bid her a hastened goodnight as soon as he was able to take a step back, and left in a billow of robes.

Melina stood alone in the dark for a long moment. She still had not quite absorbed what had just happened when she finally fell asleep; and perhaps it was because her mind was so numb, or her mental exhaustion so complete, but that night Melina slept better than she ever had.

* * *

Morning came, as many mornings do, with confusion and blurred lines between reality and dreams. In a grip of panic Melina sat abruptly, uncertain if the events of the previous day had only happened in her mind. But upon closer revision of her memories, she became fairly certain that Gandalf had truly returned.

Luckily she had woken up early, long before breakfast despite the alcohol and exhaustion of the day before. So she refreshed herself, dressed and combed her hair with time to spare; and completely ignored her self imposed duty to write in her journal.

She wondered where he was staying, in which section of the house did he sleep. Was he near here? The thought made the butterflies returned. But she doubted it. It seemed this section of the house was inhabited by women only. It made sense, in a house without doors or window panes, that men and women would be separated for privacy's sake. She had seen Glorfindel's quarters, on the other side of the house, once and she imagined Gandalf residing somewhere in their vicinity.

It took a great effort not to run to breakfast, and despite a voice in her head telling her that Gandalf may not be present, she had a feeling he would.

As expected the hall was half-empty, most people arrived later, though Searien was already present. She sat at her usual table, though her neighbour was new to the place. Melina grinned broadly as she approached her seat, silently thanking her luck for not having to choose between two friends.

Awkwardness being a second nature to her by now, Melina was relatively comfortable facing Gandalf. She smiled, blushed and bade him good morning as she sat down.

"Good morning Melina."

"Good morning Searien. Have you sleep well?"

"Very well. And yourself? You left early last night."

"Oh...yes. I sleep good. I did not want to dance." she kept her eyes down as she broke open a roll of bread. "You danced?"

"Yes, but not very long. I was also very tired."

"Ah..." she spread some marmalade on her bread before looking up at him and smiling, "And you Gandalf? Did you sleep good?"

"Very well," he replied, nothing in his face hinting at discomfort except a tightness of his lips, like someone trying not to smile, "thank you."

The last words were spoken in such a tone that Melina could not mistake their meaning. A thank you not for her trivial questions, but for her forgiveness. She nodded, her giddiness sobered for a moment, before returning to her food.

The pair continued to talk and, though not quite excluding her, they left Melina behind as they changed from subject to subject. Not that she was not used to it by now, so that as she ate she listened to them politely, looking into the face of the speaker and smiling when she thought it required. She understood a lot more than when she had first arrived, more than they realized she was certain. But though she picked up words here and there, and sometimes whole sentences, the meaning often escaped her.

Now they were talking about trees, and then about some people, after that Arwen and then, of course, herself. She watched nervously as Gandalf made enquiries, and Searien answered, often looking in her direction as if to reassure Melina that she was not divulging private information. There was a mention of her lessons with Bilbo, which, Melina assured Gandalf, were going well. Then the dancing was chuckled at, followed by her new found hobby of stitching.

"No," she shook her head, "I not do so good. Not like Arwen."

Of course not like Arwen, she doubted anyone could do anything like Arwen, but Searien waved a hand in the air nonetheless and reassured Gandalf that she embroidered very well.

The chit chat ended when Gandalf excused himself, claiming to have some things to attend to which included Lord Elrond, and promised to see both of them that evening. Melina waved her goodbye, as her mouth was occupied by an orange that moment, and watched him leave sadly. Searien gave her a strange, knowing, kind of smile before she too finished her meal and left.

"I will see you at dinner. Have a good day, my friend."

"Oh...yes, you too."

A good day...a normal day...with her usual routine. But, of course, it was far from being a _normal_ day, and Melina was again distracted throughout her entire lessons. This time Bilbo also seemed troubled, and he hardly spoke at all. She wondered if he had received some news from Gandalf, but could not ask. So the pair sat in silence, both starring into nothingness.

This time though, nothingness was not too interesting. She had imagined an entire day with him, talking about nothing, simply enjoying having him nearby...but of course that had been folly. He was busy, too busy to keep her company. She would see him tonight though, and the thought cheered her immensely.

The problem with having to go through and entire day only thinking about the end of it, is that the said day never ends.

Having tired of the nothingness of the Hall of Fire, Melina tested the nothingness of her Luthien garden. When this too failed to provide any entertainment, she took a bath. A very, very long bath. Lunch provided some diversion, but was over too soon, leaving her alone again.

Finally, alone and annoyed, Melina dared to approach Arwen's stitching party. As usual they were assembled, though Searien was nowhere to be found. Melina wondered if her presence would be welcomed without the presence of her attendant, and almost turned around to leave when her nerves abandoned her, but she was seen, welcomed, seated, and given the bag containing her work.

Having something productive to do paid off. She threw herself completely and passionately into her work and when, after so long that her neck was cramped, she looked up, the sun had moved noticeably.

"Lady Melina?"

She turned to find Arwen standing close by, holding up a magnificent looking dress. It was deep silver, but changed to dark blue when Arwen moved it gently. A pearly-white belt was tied loosely around the waist and tiny silver chains hung across the chest atop a v-shaped cut where the inner, cream coloured, material could be seen.

"Could you stand up please?"

Melina put her work aside and stood, in awe, as Arwen approached with the dress. She stood still as the elegant angel pressed the gown against her shoulders, testing the length and size. Still shocked, Melina could only grin back when Arwen nodded appreciatively.

"It is almost finished." she said with a soft smile, indicating the roughly cut edges of the long sleeves.

Melina could see that they would be greatly improved by stitching the material, and wondered how long such a work would take, for images of herself in the dress eating with Gandalf were already playing in her mind. She, of course, did not show her impatience and simply thanked the women over and over, until they were all blushing from praise.

Another look at the sky told her she should make her exit. She thanked the women again, returned, albeit nervously, Arwen's embrace, and left for her room. This time Searien was not present, and Melina was left alone to choose her gown and braid her hair. Though not as elegant as the day before, she was pleased with her looks...as pleased as one could be. In full light she still found it difficult to look at herself, but one had to resign even to the most horrid of circumstances when no hope of change was possible. And so she ignored the scars, and concentrated on the accessories.

This time Gandalf and Elrond were already seated, and there were none of yesterday's ceremonies. He stood to pull out her chair, an action she still was not used to being subjected to, and asked how her day had been. Well she answered, and she was tempted to mention her new dress, but decided against it. The surprise would be greatest if left untold. So she ate, and drank, though no alcohol this time.

She had wanted to leave early. Escape to her rooms again in order to avoid the dance floor and, in her heart of heart, hoping to see him in her chambers again. But some things never go as planned; so that when she stood to depart, her hand was grabbed and she was swirled against a warm, grey body. She began to resist, mumbling excuses, imagined pains, and exhaustion, but Gandalf only grinned as he danced.

And as soon as he hopped from one foot to the other, sent his hair flying as he twirled, she laughed. Out loud. Hard. And long. She laughed until her sides ache and tears came down; laughed until she was not sure why she had begun. People were looking at her, some had stopped dancing. Gandalf was standing immobile before her, a smirk on his lips and a twinkle in his eyes.

The whole thing would have become awkward, and she began to feel the weight of their stares, but the master of merriment would not let it happen. Legolas arrived in all his golden glory and swooped not herself, but Gandalf, off his feet and both men began moving across the floor. This time her laughter was mimicked by the rest of the crowd until both buffoons stopped to catch their breath.

Melina looked at both of them with a feeling of love she had never before felt. And something, deep inside her, fixed itself. She knew it as soon as it happened. Love, again, proved itself the strongest of cures. But it was not only the love she felt, but the one she knew she received. She had known herself to be cared for since her arrival here, but knowing and feeling are worlds apart to a broken heart.

Now she felt it.

She saw it.

And she returned it.

That night she danced until her feet hurt, and laughed until her chest burnt.

* * *

Thanks again for sticking around so long, and reading.


	10. Intentions

**Author's Note:** A relatively quick update, yes!

Thanks a bunch to everyone that reviewed, as always it means the world to me. I hope you enjoy this chapter, its not seen a beta at all, so please excuse any grammar mistake, or mistakes of any other kind.

Oh, by the way. I past my stupid German language exam! Yes sir! So this is indeed a celebratory chapter.

**Chapter 10**

_I may not have gone where I intended to go,  
but I think I have ended up where I needed to be._

-Douglas Adams (1952-2001)

_October 20th, 3018_

_Gandalf arrived two days before. Yesterday I dance with he and Legolas. Arwen makes a dress to me. It is not finish yet. Today I feel good. No bad dreams. I think this will a good day be._

_

* * *

_

They were screaming behind her, demanding that she stop, turn, and come back. But she would not, could not. It hurt her deeper that she could admit that they still did not trust her at this point. They would always think her weak and broken, unable to do anything without their help. Nothing she had done in the past three days, and nothing she would ever do, could change their minds.

Tears of anger and hurt streamed down her face as she ran out of the warm room. The air outside was cold, very cold, and the wind pierced through her thin dress like a knife, but she ignored it all. She flew down the first flights of stairs, stumbled over the next ones and held back a yelp of pain as her knees collided with marble, but she kept running.

Everything was so dark. The sky was starless, and the entire valley seemed to have muffled its lights. It was quiet as well, too quiet even for this time of night. If she did not know better, she might think that all life had forsaken the house of Elrond, everything but that island of light she had just left; where someone lay dying.

Death. How strange it was to see death in someone else's face again. To have someone under her care for the first time in a lifetime, literally. It had made her feel normal again, the simple act of knowing what to do, and how to do it. The feeling of not being helpless, of not requiring help, but giving it.

But it was not working. He was still leaving them, and in a stranger manner than she had ever seen. She would not give up though, and that was why she was now sprinting down the house, heading ever lower, towards the source of all life in the valley.

And when she reached its bank, she did not hesitate for one second. She tore off her slippers, slid down the muddy slope, and landed in the freezing water with a giant splash that soaked most of her dress from the get go. Then, fervently, she began to search for her salvation, the thing that would make the other see that she was not insane, that she knew what she was doing, that she could help...

She needed leeches.

* * *

Melina had woken up to a new world that morning. After a full night of dancing with almost everyone in the house, she had been brought to bed by Searien and had went to sleep happy. Actually happy.

The feeling had not receded one bit as she wrote in her journal, and even the slightly grey skies had done nothing to deter her new found emotion. It was strange to walk in for breakfast, everything seemed brighter somehow. The angels' auras appeared more blinding that before, as if a veil or shadow had been lifted from a picture. But brighter than the rest was Gandalf. He had joined them for breakfast once again, to Melina's delight, and she was the first one to arrive. Searien was running late for once.

"Good morning Gandalf."

"Good morning Melina, have you slept well?"

She nodded as she popped a grape in her mouth and grinned.

"Very, very goo...well. And you?"

"Quite well, thank you." his eyes twinkle and he sported a conspirational smile

Which led to many a question she refrained to ask. Instead she made small talk while spreading fruit jam over her bread.

"What you do today?"

"Same as yesterday." he said with a smile, and Melina glared at him, "I will spend the day with Elrond."

"Ah." that was not disappointment in her voice, no, nothing of the sort, it was a simple acknowledgement of the fact that he will not spend it with her...

"I will see you at dinner later though," he added for comfort, not that she needed it of course.

"That is good."

And then he left. She shivered as he placed a kiss on the top of her head, wondered if he noticed, hoped he did not, and watched him leave the hall. It was his familiarity that got the best of her, this strange place in her heart that was so attached to him. But she was certain she had never known a person like him, so where was the feeling coming from?

She was still pondering the strange quirks of her heart when Searien and her friends arrived to eat, giving her ample distractions.

* * *

She fell, again, and cursed loudly in the darkness as more of her delicate nightgown was drenched by the murky river waters. She reached up to wipe her brow of blood and sweat, but only manage to replace it with muck. Everything was so black, the sky, the water, herself; it was impossible to distinguish anything. Though she could not see it, she was certain her lips had turned blue minutes ago, and the only reason violent shaking was kept at bay was the adrenaline rush of the moment.

She had to find some. Tomorrow might be too late. There had to be some of the nasty things in this river, there just had to!

Melina bent down and grabbed a handful of mud in both hands and felt around with her thumb. Rocks, dirt, pebbles...no, no no! Nothing slimy or squishy! One more time, just one more time...

After the fifth dip in the frozen river, she felt something...something soft, round, and securely attached to her palm.

"I have one...I HAVE ONE!"

She scrambled out of the water, falling over the bank as she tried to climb back up with only one hand. It was hard, she was so drench. Her dress weighted a ton. She clenched her teeth, filled herself with determination, and tried again; breaking her nails as she grabbed for handholds, and ruining her toes as she shoved them into the soft, freezing earth. But after a few minutes, she managed to squirm on dry ground, breathing hard and shaking like a leaf.

Turning on her back and looking up at the black sky, Melina became immobile. She should hurry, there was something important she needed to do with this leech...this leech wich was having a belly full of her hand at the moment...but it was becoming harder to concentrate. To remember why she was there in the first place. Why it was so cold, and wet. There was a strange murky stench all around her too, very strange.

Maybe if she just, closed her eyes for a bit. Took a second to recuperate, things would make sense again...Just, one moment of shut eye...

* * *

Gods. She had seen Gods.

It should have occurred to her that in a world populated by demons, angels and a Devil, Gods would also be present. But it certainly did not cross her mind while she sat in her Luthien garden, reading a book with Searien in the late afternoon sunlight. Nevertheless, this is when the Gods appeared.

Though Searien's attention seemed fully dedicated to the book, Melina's mind had been wandering. She was thinking of Gandalf, of the strange emotions she felt when he was around, of the aura he cast, of the yearning he gave her. Because she did yearn, not for him, not in a hormonal teenager kind of way, but she yearned for something.

"Melina, you do not listen."

She blushed. She could not lie to Searien, and so kept her mouth closed. The beautiful woman gave her the bad eye for a moment before she sighed with a soft smile. She seemed to be about to say something, but stopped in mid-word. Her eyes grew wide and in one fluid movement, she was on her feet, running towards the edge of the garden. Melina was about to ask what had her so riled up when she felt it.

Felt it. Long before she heard it.

A low rumbling. Something that seemed to emanate from the earth itself, like the roar of a terrible lion. Melina stood more slowly, but still rapidly and she approached Searien. From this grown over balcony they could see most of the valley below them, but while her friend seemed to be staring at something specific, Melina could see nothing amiss.

The shaking did not stop though, in became stronger and stronger until, with a whispered cuss, Melina finally saw it. The river. It was moving in the most unnatural of manner. It was bubbling, roiling, swelling and swirling. In a matter a minutes it had overflowed its bed and still did not stop.

"Searien, what happens?"

Her friend turned to her with a serious, pale face and answered:

"Bad people have come. The river is angry."

Melina would have taken a step back had she not been shocked immobile. The anger, the pure fury, in Searien's eyes took her breath away. It seemed that all pretence of a gentile woman had disappeared and left behind a cold shell. While Searien returned her gaze to the river below, Melina looked up at the house.

There was something, a strange feeling at the back of her neck, which told her something was off. Not just the river, but behind her, somewhere. Something she should understand, something that felt so familiar...

But what she saw was neither familiar, nor understandable. On the balcony of Elrond's office stood two figures. So terrible and mighty they seemed that she took a step back in fright, but their wrath was not directed at her. She recognized both men, though they appeared so changed that she could not have possibly known them by their appearance. They stood taller than any man should, so tall they seemed to reach the sky itself, yet their size was unchanged. Their extended arms appeared to be able to destroy everything under them, so large and long they were, yet they too had not been altered.

They were both bathed in the brightest of lights, and behind them seemed to extend the very fields of gold Melina had dreamt of. She could smell the sea as she watched as the figures chanted strange words, and could feel a gentle breeze on her skin that made her heart ache. Only the firm grip of Searien prevented Melina from running towards the scene. She tried to shrug the hand away, but it would not budge.

Finally she settled in watching them, the Gods of this house, casting their judgement on their subject below.

In the background she was aware of the river's booming voice, and behind that, the muffled screech of something more evil even than her Devil...and had she not been looking into the Gods' light, she might have felt cold and broken all over again.

* * *

A sudden intake of breath, cold and painful, and her eyes snapped open. She was still lying on the ground, the darkness above her unchanged, a throb in her hand reminding her of her duty, and she groaned. She slowly brought her hand in front of her face and tried to examine the creature feeding on it, but everything was too dark.

She was shaking visibly now, and it hindered her movement as she attempted to get up. Her dress was even heavier than before, pulling her down before she even got to her feet. She fell on her knees, hard, and cried out. But she knew no one would hear her, she had come here against their wishes and they were too busy to chaperon an idiot. She was on her own, just as she had been most of her life.

At one point, when she had been younger, that had not scared her. She had been, not stronger, but harder. She had built a fortress around her heart, filled with arrogance and hate, and it had allowed her to get through what had defeated many a woman. She had been a nurse, a war nurse, and it had ruined her life; but she had gotten through it. In comparison, this should be easy.

Melina closed her eyes, on her knees as if in prayer she reached inside of her for the strength of this woman. This person she had once been, over eight decades before, she needed her tough shell now. Just as she had needed her expertise over the past three days.

But nothing came. Images of screaming young men, severed body parts and guts filled her mind, drew tears in her eyes, but hardness was gone. Perhaps forever.

* * *

She had followed Searien. However much she had wanted to follow Gandalf and Elrond, along with a handful of men, she had followed Searien. She was certain the men were going to meet someone, and she was equally certain that that someone was Glorfindel, but she had been barred from going along.

At first she had thought Searien did not want her to try and go because she believed Melina weak, a burden maybe. But as she had watched the horsemen line up together to leave the valley, she had realized her mistake. She was not allowed to go because she was a woman. It was both a comforting and frustrating knowledge.

She would be damned if she was prevented from helping though, and so she had followed her maid into an empty bedroom where they had busied themselves. They were preparing the room for someone it seemed, and though Searien spoke very little, she had accepted Melina's help. She sent her to fetch water, employed her to help with the bedsheets, allowed her to dust the room and change the curtains.

They prepared three such rooms. Two with only one bed, and one with two. By the time they were finished, the sun had set, and as they headed back to the first room again, a company met them along the way.

Melina recognised Gandalf and Elrond, along with two other angels from the house. There were three very short people she had never seen before and one tall bearded man who as carrying another short person.

"Searien, bring some hot water please. And towels. I also need light. As many lanterns as you can find!"

The orders were barked by Elrond in a manner she had never before heard and Melina was not surprised to see Searien jump into action immediately, leaving Melina to stand alone. The company filed into the room, and she followed, curious. She watched as the body of the...ah, a Hobbit!...was laid on the soft bed and gasped. He was hurt!

Her fears forgotten, Melina made her way to the other side of the bed, across from Elrond who was busying himself with the patient. She looked up to the crowd at the door, frowned when she noticed that no one seemed to be ordering for a doctor, and looked down again. Elrond was removing the shirt, but was having some trouble...her fingers itched to help...her heart pounded hard in her chest....but she remained still.

When Searien came into the room with candles and lanterns, Melina sprung into action.

"On the bed." she said as she rolled up her sleeve. If Searien thought it strange to be ordered to do anything by her, she did not show it. She had other tasks to accomplish and was probably thankful to have someone else take this one over.

Melina cleared the bedside table of everything except the large water bowl, and put up four candles. She then moved to the other side with more agility than anyone could have thought her capable of, and expertly put up another 5 sticks on the table next to Elrond; without ever touching the man. It was now obvious that no other doctor was coming, so this man had to be it. He was still struggling with the clothes though, by the time she returned to the other side, and she watched until she could not take it any more. This was a nurse's work...and she was the nurse.

"Move back...please..."she said with a bit more snap than intended and carefully began to unclad the boy...man...

She was aware of Elrond's head snapping up, of his mouth moving, but she heard no vocal protest, so she continued. She unbuttoned the shirt in seconds, slid one arm out easily, but had to be careful with the second one. It was hard...and very, very cold. The source of the man's injury suddenly became clear; he wore a white vest under his shirt, and Melina could see a bulge on the left side of his chest, where his heart would be...her heart skipped a beat, her breath caught in her throat....it could not already be too late, could it?

She quickly finished with the shirt, folded it in a second and placed it at the end of the bed. Elrond was standing up, watching her critically as he took of his heavy surcoat and rolled the sleeve of his robes. He washed his hands in one bowl of hot water that Searien filled for him, and placed another steaming bowl next to the candles. Before moving to the rest of his clothing, Melina quickly placed a hand on the man's forehead...he was hot, very hot.

"Searien!" Melina called out before the woman could leave again, "Need also cold water," she said, pointing to the empty bowl on her side.

Searien nodded after Elrond inclined his head, and she disappeared with the bowl. Melina then watched, and approved with a nod, as Elrond unfolded a large array of medical instruments on the bed. The Lord, now turned doctor, picked out a pair of scissors and began to gently cut the vest. When done, he pulled apart both pieces of reveal a large, putrid looking bandage, which had been the cause of the bulge. Melina placed a hand on the man's face again. This time not only to more thoroughly determine his temperature, but also to feel his pulse.

It was incredibly weak. She looked up, alarmed, at Elrond who stared back at her. She froze. She could not pretend that no one was looking at her now, could not ignore the strangeness of her actions to these people, could not hope that they would all pretend that this was all just normal. But she did not see disapproval in his eyes, only worry; not for herself, but for his patient. She took a deep breath, steadied her shaking hands, and looked down at the dying man again.

"His name?" she asked in a whisper.

To her surprise it was not Elrond who answered, but the bearded man. However gruff his looks, his voice was sweet and gentle.

"His name is Frodo, my lady."

* * *

"Frodo..." her whisper was barely audible, even to herself, but the image it conjured was stronger than any bloody soldier's face.

With a deep breath and a loud cry, Melina stood up again. This time she ripped at her ruined dress with her usable hand, and quickly dropped it to the ground. Now thirty pounds lighter, though colder than before, she trudged on.

The house was still dark, the only light visible coming from one room way up high where she knew the man was still dying. Three days they had worked on him, and still he was not getting better. The fool's errand she had sent herself on would do him no good if they did not find the source of the problem, but at least she felt like she was doing something productive.

Climbing the stairs took much longer than it had descending them. After the third flight, she was out of breath. Dirty, half naked and carrying a blood sucking slime around, she wondered if they would even let her back into the room. She felt like a darn fool, and knew she looked the part.

This was not how it was supposed to go. She would only prove them right, looking like this. They would think her mad, crazy and out to do more harm then good. They had been nice, tolerating even, but she was certain this would be the last straw.

Another few more stairs. She was falling more often than not now, hanging on the railing for dear life. But her body was on auto drive, while her mind wandered around. She should not go back to the room; she should return to her own quarters, disposed of the bug, wash and go to sleep. It had been a while since she had slept...she had gotten a few hours shut eye, but never really slept since Frodo had arrived. She had not wanted to abandon the doctor; any good nurse knew to keep around as long as the doctor had the energy to do so.

But Elrond was a well of inexhaustible energy. The man had not slept, ate of drank since that night. He had stayed by his patient's bedside the entire time, only pausing his care taking and chanting to tell Melina to get sustenance. He was truly a god. She had witnessed the same phenomena in Gandalf when they had ridden out of the Horse Castle. How strange these people were.

The Hobbits made more sense to her. Sam, Bilbo, Pippin and Merry; they had also been around the room, some more often than others, but they ate, drank and slept quite a bit. It saddened her that she could not communicate with them unless Bilbo or Gandalf was there to translate; not that any of them, including her, had been in a particularly chatty mood, but still...

Another two flights of stairs; the room was getting ever closer. She would have to choose to turn back soon, for turn back she must. There was no way she could enter that room looking the way she did. She would die of humiliation. Still she did not stop, one more step, another after that...on and on, driven by a force she did not know she had.

When, finally, she reached the correct level, she stopped. Her body was both freezing and burning, and she had a creeping feeling that she would be punished for her escapade by pneumonia. Her room was some ways away, on the other side of the house, that is where she should go. She needed to catch her breath though, so she stumbled to a bench close by and sat down. She hardly notice the freezing wood under her naked thighs.

She lifted her wounded hand, where her leechy friend was still attached, and glared at it. She was tempted to smash the thing there and then in order to remove the choice of going back entirely, but could not bring herself to do it. She had worked hard for the bug, and with good intent. She was certain it could help, and she so desperately wanted to help. If only she had something to clad herself in first and foremost...maybe she could sneak into a room and...no, no! This was the men's section of the house to begin with, plus she knew no one here aside from the Hobbits and Glorfindel...

* * *

The patient had not woken up. Dawn was breaking and, after a full night of care, he looked exactly the same as before. She had assisted Elrond throughout his attempted to find a foreign object in the wound, but to no avail. They were all certain that some piece of the sword had lodge itself in the wound, but they could not find it.

Melina had been ordered to find food and rest. Food she had agreed to find, but rest she was certain she could not. She had stopped by her quarters to change and freshen up before heading to the dinning hall. She was certain to find it empty, it was very early after all, and many people had been up quite late. She was certain that all of the Hobbits would be out for the day, considering the hour they had left the room last night.

Aragorn had left even later, and Gandalf not at all. So she was surprised, in more ways than one, to enter the dinning hall and spot one single occupant. The golden haired man sat with his back to her, eating his breakfast slowly. From where she stood he looked like many an angel that inhabited the house, but she knew who he was immediately. No one had an aura like Glorfindel.

She had no first reaction. No initial turmoil of emotion or desire to leave him in peace. She walked over to him with a smile on her face, pulled up a chair and sat down. He turned to her with a weak grin, he looked as tired as she, and offered her a strawberry.

"You are here."

"I am." he replied and waved the berry when she did not take it immediately.

"Thank you." she took it, ate it and contemplated her next words while trying to stop grinning, "When did you arrive?"

"Last night. With Frodo."

The name brought a momentary gloom to both their hearts, and though it could not pass, it was put aside for the happy reunion. Melina, though she had been as broken hearted by his departure as Gandalf's, felt much less troubled by his return than the man in grey's. She was only filled with a feeling of "right", and deep satisfaction. Like someone who finally finds a long lost sock.

"Are you good?"

He sighed, played with a grape before shoving the fruit in his mouth and lied:

"I am good. And yourself? I heard you have been doing better."

"Ah, yes...a bit" she blushed, reached out for some nuts and ate them one by one, slowly. She wondered what the odds were of making a fool of herself by speaking further, and decided to keep eating instead.

Just like their time together in his office, they sat in silence. She found it amazingly comfortable and had to wipe away tears of joy that threatened to fall in her plate. They ate in silence, cleaned their table in silence, and parted in silence.

* * *

The sucker was still sucking. Melina wondered if it would get too full and not be able to help out any more...if so, she needed to hurry.

Aside from the leech, no one was going to come and take her hand. She was going to have to do this herself, and as insecure as she felt, as much as she wanted to run and hide; Melina realized something else:

She had done worse.

Hell, one of them had already seen her naked.

She'd been tortured...

...raped...

Reborn...

And now she feared to go in a room because of lack of clothing?

"Fuck this."

In one fluid movement, against protesting limbs and joints, she stood and headed to the room. She was vaguely aware of a silhouette outside, which moved in her direction as she approached and called her name, but she walked past him and entered the room.

They all, which is to say both of them, turned their head in shock as she entered. She stopped, held up her hand to show the blood sucking monster, and said proudly:

"I got one."

There was a heavy silent pause. Neither Gandalf nor Elrond seemed to be able to come up with anything to say. And so it was Glorfindel, who had entered only a step behind her, who spoke up:

"I believe you have captured a few more than that, my lady."

Melina turned to him, followed his gaze to her legs, and realized she was sporting at least five more leeches. She snapped back up, eyes round, and swallowed hard.

"Get them off..." the whisper was the only thing standing between sanity and hysteria, but Glorfindel must have seen the threat for he pulled her to the other side of the room.

After a quick, and humiliating, inspection of her rear, he sat her down and went on one knee. He was about to begin removing the leeches, but Melina stopped him.

"Wait...careful. Do not..." she made a squeezing motion with her fingers, "I need them."

He nodded, reached out for a bowl of water, and began to carefully pluck out the disgusting beasts. She watched, half in amazement, half in terror, as he found not five, but a total of eleven leeches. When he finished, he spent a minute checking her scalp, then chuckled.

"You should wash...and find clothing."

She waved a hand in the air dismissively, but smiled her agreement. First though, she wanted to use the leeches. Taking the bowl, in which she finally dumped the one from her hand, Melina approached the bed. Elrond, she now saw, had re-opened the wood once more. As usual Gandalf looked on, but touched nothing.

"How is he?"

Elrond shook his head, but did not answer. Melina bit her lip, she could see that the Hobbit was not doing any better than before. Gently, she picked up Frodo's cold hand and examined the finger tips once again. The dark blueish tinge had not dissipated, it had now spread beyond the finger nails. Though not good news in the least, Melina felt relief. This was the confirmation she needed. She had not gone through all this trouble for nothing after all, he needed these leeches.

Carefully, both for her sake and the bugs', Melina scrub the gelatinous bodies of the leeches to free them of dirt. She could not disinfect them of course, but at this point she doubted that it would be an infection that would kill the patient. She then picked up, one by one, five of the bugs and placed them at the tip of each finger. She was aware of Glorfindel watching her actions over her shoulder, and of Elrond eyeing her curiously, so she explained.

"To take out bad blood. If not, he maybe loose fingers." it made sense to her, she just hoped it made sense to them too.

Elrond nodded, a tight smile indicating that he was impress on some level, she heard Glorfindel grunt, and Gandalf only grinned. A little too proud of herself for her own good, Melina sighed and leaned back. She hit something soft and warm, realized it must be Glorfindel's knees, and jerked away in shame. She was still covered in muck.

"Sor...."she began, but just then Elrond let out a loud cry.

Melina turned to him in shock, and felt tears tickle her eyes when she saw that he was holding a piece of metal in his hands.

"You did it..." she whispered, a nervous laugh escaping her muddy lips, "you really did it."

"Now, he only needs rest." Elrond replied as he wrapped the piece of metal in a cloth and handed it to Gandalf, giving the man some instructions or others. Then he turned to Melina with a warm smile, "and so do you. Thank you, for the help."

"You are welcome, Lord Elrond." she replied, not tired at all, but more than ready to take a hot bath. As she stood and was escorted out by Glorfindel, Melina turned back, "Take them off soon. Too long is no good."

Elrond nodded before turning to his patient again, a soft chanting on his lips. Melina sighed again, and another time after that. She could finally allow herself to succumb to her bodily need after three days of caring for another's. It felt so normal to have Glorfindel by her side, that she hardly notice him entering her quarters without permission, or the fact that he helped her fill her bath. In fact, it was only when she was ready to undress and wash that she noticed him really. By this time he was readying to leave, biding her a good night with a low bow. She almost told him to stay...realized how inappropriate that was, blushed furiously as strange, explicit, thoughts filled her mind, and mumbled a reply as he left.

The images of Glorfindel's supple fingers, which she had been able to examine at her leisure while he de-leeched her, would not go away. She found herself trying to imagine what his arms looked like. She knew how strong he was, so there would be quite some muscle. She wondered at his chest; hairless she was certain. She had never had the pleasure of feeling a man's chest in that way. She had seen plenty naked, but they were always either dead or dying.

The images led to a strange feeling. A feeling modern women recognised and took care of...but for Melina, the feeling was associated only with guilt. She should not...but then again...Everything she had ever believed before, had been proved wrong by her rebirth here. She had met the Devil...and she had also met Gods. Nothing was how the bible had said it would be, or at least, nothing so literal.

With that in mind, Melina abandoned herself to her sexual fantasies and did something she had only done three times in her entire life.


	11. Dinner

**Author's Note:** Oh yes, I am alive. There are no words to apologize for not updating for so long, so I won't even try. I will say one thing though, on March 18th, 2010 I gave birth to a beautiful baby girl :)

I would like to thank all my reviewers. You truly make my writing world go around. I started writing again because of your lovely words. I'm sorry if I did not reply to everyone. But know that each review warms my heart and helps kick my butt into writing gear.

Thank you all for not giving up on me and this story. I hope you enjoy :)

**Chapter 11**

_"At a dinner party one should eat wisely but not too well, and talk well but not too wisely."_  
-W. Somerset Maugham (1874 – 1965)

_October 24th, 3018_

_Elrond say Frodo is good again. But he is not yet woke up. I am very happy I helped – it felt important that he be good again. I go see Bilbo and the other hobbits today. They speak strange tongue, but they are funny to see. They be very loud. Louder now, because Eldron say Frodo is alive._

The change of mood in the entire house that morning was intoxicating. The elven singing, which had been heartbreakingly sorrowful the past few days, was now the complete opposite – loud, merry and full of warmth. Melina could not help smiling broadly at nothing in particular all morning long. Breakfast looked to be a boisterous affair, more so because of a group of short, sturdy looking men which had taken up the middle of the dinning hall. The usual house residents had gathered around them, a few were laughing, others seemed to be arguing playfully, and the rest were sitting and discussing while sharing their meal.

Melina spotted Serien and moved toward her friend until she realized that the reason she could not make out any of the words spoken was not the unusual noise in the hall, but the fact that they were speaking another language entirely. The same one the hobbits spoke. Not wanting herself to feel frustrated on such a wonderful morning, Melina greeted Serien quickly, grabbed a piece of bread and some fruits, and left. She knew it was not the most polite thing to do, but she really did not want to linger so long amongst strangers. They would stare, ask questions to the others, and talk about her like she was not there.

It had been very easy to forget about her disfigurements while living with people who were used to seeing her. And she had been pulled out of that comfort zone, had witnessed the shocked look on someone's face for the first time in weeks by the hobbits. Oh, it must be said that their reaction had been mild, almost non-existent, but she had seen it. Pipin had stared the longest, but after a hard elbow in the ribs by Merry, he had smiled and absentmindedly offered her an apple he had already bit in. They had all laughed and the attention diverted away from her.

She was now heading over to see them again, certain to find them with Bilbo. The complicated family relations between the hobbits had been explained to her over and over again, but she had never been able to follow. The whole thing was made more complicated because Bilbo needed to translate everything the others said and it appeared to be impossible for a hobbit to simply stop at "cousin" or "uncle". They needed to go on and on about degrees of relation, and often go sidetracked by stories they suddenly remembered involving the relative mentioned. But in the end she decided that every hobbit seemed in some way related to the other, but that Bilbo and Frodo were what would commonly be known as "father and son".

By the time she arrived in the Hall of Fire, Melina had already finished eating her breakfast and was feeling wonderful once more. She was surprised to find Bilbo sitting alone on a cushion, snoring rather loudly. Somewhat disappointed, she silently left the room again and decided to see if Glorfindel had some free time. Thoughts of the golden angel made her smile and sent butterflies soaring in her stomach. She decided not to ponder too much on these reactions and from what emotions they might stem. It was dangerous territory, she knew. And after all, he was a Lord, and she was a broken soul.

Suddenly feeling like a grey cloud was beginning to form above her head, Melina hesitated. Her feet slowly came to a stop in the middle of a corridor and she stood still, staring at nothingness. At the edge of her vision she saw darkness, thick and all-consuming. It crept closer and closer, filling her mind, engulfing her body. She was unwanted. A broken and discarded old toy. Tainted by evil. They could all see it, what had been done to her. She was a walking reminder that there was a world beyond this valley. A world full of a maliciousness and dread. Who would want to think of such things while staying in the Last Homely House?

"Ah, Melina. 'Tis good I found you. If you are free, I would ask for your help."

The sweet melody of Arwen's voice shook Melina violently out of her despair. The darkness receded quickly, to be replaced by the heavenly vision of the most beautiful creature in existence. And she was looking at Melina, staring right into her very soul. In her beautiful eyes Melina saw nothing but friendship and warmth. No trace of resentment or disgust. Melina swallowed hard to try and hold back her tears.

"Help?" she asked weekly, unsure if she was making a request or asking for details.

Arwen smiled and moved closer, taking Melina's hand in her own. Warmth against cold, perfection against deformity, godliness against a mere mortal. Melina knew she was privileged to be in this lady's presence, let alone be considered something of a friend. A smooth finger reached up to her face and brushed her tears away.

"Frodo has awoken."

More tears came, but this time they came from a place of joy. There was something about that hobbit which melted Melina's heart, something deep and old.

"That is very good."

"Yes. We will have a feast tonight. There are many things to prepare."

"I help. What can I do?"

Arwen then began to slowly explain some of the things that would need to be done for the feast. Melina knew that her presence was of course not needed, in fact having to explain everything to her would be more of a hindrance than anything, but she was grateful to be included. Arwen had put her entourage to work on the decorations for the dinning hall. She had chosen the colours for the table cloth and flowers, and had also decided placing as many flower rings as they could braid before the afternoon – at which point they themselves would need to prepare.

The arrived at Arwen's usual place of rest and leisure where a few maidens were already hard at work on braiding flowers together. Delicious perfumes emanated from the large baskets of freshly picked blue and white flowers one of which Arwen now moved over to an empty chair. Melina greeted the rest of the party assembled before sitting down and slowly beginning one of her own rings. There was very little of the usual conversations as the women worked and Melina lost herself in her task, forgetting all about hobbits, men and sorrows. All that mattered was one blue flower here, twist, one white flower there, twist once more and repeat.

When Serien came to tap her on the shoulder, Melina thought she had come to help with the preparations until she stated:

"It is time we ready for the feast."

"Already?" but when she looked up Melina realized that the sun was quite low and the other women were beginning to stow away their material for the evening. "I see. I finish quick."

Melina tied up a few more flowers to her braid before finishing it off with a white ribbon. It was not as long as her first, but she was proud that she had managed so much in so little time. Putting the unused flowers away, Melina noticed Arwen motioning Serien over to look at something. She approached the pair and peered over their shoulders.

"Oh!" she gasped, "Is ready now?"

"Just in time for the feast. You will look wonderful tonight."

Melina smiled and carefully picked up her attire. It felt like silky water in her hands. The previously unfinished sleeves were now trimmed with a bright silver thread and hung heavily from the dress.

"Thank you very much lady Arwen."

"You are most welcome Melina. Now, I will also be going. I shall see you at the feast."

They parted, Serien with Melina and Arwen with the other women. Getting ready took double the normal amount of time for Serien seemed intent on making everything perfect. She carefully picked out a combination of scented oil for Melina's baths, washed her hair and later combed it dry before braiding some of it into complicated strands. She then helped Melina slip into her new dress and topped the whole things with jewels.

They talked as they readied, about this and that. Small talk. Melina remembered the short men she had seen that morning and decided to ask Serien about them.

"They are dwarves come from far away."

"Dwarves?"

Serien hesitated at the question. She seemed to think about the best way to answer, or maybe about the simplest explanation so that Melina might understand.

"Dwarves are the children of Aulë."

"Aulë?"

Serien sighed. Melina was certain she had heard the name before during one lesson with Bilbo, but the old hobbit said a lot about many things and she could not always keep up with his ramblings.

"He is a Vala, from the Undying Lands."

The look of utter confusion on Melina's face sent Serien into a fit of giggles which ended when she groaned in frustration. It seemed the topic was hard to explain and Melina decided to file it away for a later conversation.

"So, dwarves are not like hobbits?"

This made Serien laugh once more, this time she needed a moment to catch her breath before shaking her head.

"No, they are not like hobbits. They are not like eldars or men either. We are children of Ilúvatar," before she could even ask the question. Serien added: "Ilúvatar is the One who thought of this world."

Melina had a million questions to ask about that, but Serien clapped her hands together after finishing up one last braid and indicated that she was done. Looking at herself in the mirror, Melina decided that she looked quite lovely. Her body continued its recovery and she was putting on ever more weight. Her nails, which had always seemed to splinter and crack at the slightest touch, were now finally beginning to take on a healthy shine. Her hair was also much softer and silkier than before. But, of course, what enhanced the whole picture for tonight was Arwen's dress. Even the ugliest of woman would attract attention in a garment such as this one.

"How do you find yourself this evening?"

Melina turned to her friend and blushed.

"Much prettier."

Serien smiled sweetly and took her hand and finally they set out into the growing darkness toward an even merrier than usual dinner.

Most of the guests had already arrived by the time Melina entered the hall and she was overwhelmed by the sheer number of people gathered. The place looked much different than usual. Every table in the room was occupied, including the high table on the dais where she spotted both Glorfindel and Gandalf as well as Arwen who looked, if at all possible, even more stunning than before. The short men she had seen earlier that day were also attending, and other strangers which she had not yet seen.

Though it would have shocked Melina if she had been allowed to sit at the dais, she was slightly disappointed when Serien told her she was to sit on a side table full of strangers. Serien herself moved away to the other side of the hall. At least her seat gave her a good view of the dais and she was able to witness Frodo's arrival. He looked fresh and rosy, leagues better than when she had last seen him. He blushed furiously when brought to Elrond's table and onto a chair with many cushions upon it. Again Melina wondered where the attachment to the hobbit came from and when she would get to even speak to him.

Returning her attention to her own table, Melina noticed that one of the newly arrived men was sitting next to her. He was conversing with his neighbour but turned to her after some time and nodded a greeting. Melina returned the nod with a smile and even accepted an offered glass of wine. Unfortunately the man began to speak to her as he poured the wine and seemed to expect and answer when he lifted the glass to her. Melina shook her head slowly and replied in Sindarin that she did not understand. The man frowned, obviously confused, and turned to his neighbour again for clarification.

"My lady, Berenor would ask for your name and the land from which you hail. And expresses his surprise that you do not understand the Common tongue."

The Eldar, whom Melina remembered vaguely from previous meals, looked slightly troubled. She guessed that his uneasiness stemmed from the fact that he knew the answer to neither of these questions. It occurred to her, for the first time, that she was something of a mystery to everyone here assembled and as far as she was concerned Gandalf knew the most, and yet he knew nothing at all. She had never been asked to explain anything before. Not by Serien or Elrond or anyone else. Which, in retrospect, certainly was strange. But now she was required an answer, and simply refusing one would be an insult to a kind stranger.

"Tell Lord Berenor I am Melina. And I not know where I come. No memory." she pointed to her head to help clarify.

The Eldar looked at her curiously for a moment and Melina suddenly felt that he could see right through her lie. But he finally turned to the man and hopefully repeated her words. Suddenly Berenor burst out laughing making Melina jump in her seat. She turned to the other at the table who were all smiling and frowned. Finally someone explained:

"Berenor says that you must come from far indeed if you think him a lord."

Melina blushed furiously feeling utterly humiliated, but Berenor gently reached out and touched her hand with a great smile on his rugged face. He then lifted his glass and made a toast which simply said:

"Melina!"

The others lifted their glasses slightly and she hurried to do the same before taking a sip.

The rest of the dinner was uneventful. Once in a while she would steal glances at the dais and wondered what secrets Gandalf was whispering to Elrond, or what nonsense Legolas could be mumbling to Glorfindel to get him to chuckle like a child. Frodo has dived into a lively conversation with one richly attired stout stranger who seemed to be more beard than man. She was happy when the entire thing was over though and thrilled that they were heading to the Hall of Fire.

The Hall looked different tonight, magical in some strange ways. The fire seemed larger than usual and was the only real light in the room except for a few small lamps. The music and singing began as soon as the minstrel reached their places and Melina felt entranced by the voices. In the gloom of the room it seemed to her that the words held strange powers and played with her vision. As she moved through the beautiful bodies, trying to find someone she knew, she saw something gleaming at the corner of her eye. But when she turned toward it, there was nothing but more people.

She moved further into the room again, slower this time. She spotted Frodo and Bilbo and smiled at their long awaited reunion. The pair disappeared behind more people and when she tried to spot them again over some shoulders she suddenly saw endless golden fields bordered by a deep blue sea – another figure walked in front of her and the vision was gone again.

Melina strained her neck, but there was nothing more to see. She spun around when she suddenly heard the sound of seagulls, she tried to navigate toward them, but never seemed to arrive. To her right she caught sight of a beautiful garden from which the deep humming of a man could be heard. She reached out to touch the closest petal, but the image dissipated into nothingness.

"Melina?"

She slowly turned, and everything around her changed. The sounds from the Hall faded away to be replaced by the crashing of waves, screams of seagull and the sound of the wind as it passed through the tall golden grass. Standing in the middle of it all and staring at her with concern in his face, was Glorfindel. But he looked different than he had earlier. He was dressed in a simple white robe, his hair straight and as bright as the sun. On his brow was a single golden leaf.

"I've been here before," she murmured.

Glorfindel frowned and reached out to her face. His hand fell on her cheek gently.

"What you see is only a dream Melina. Come back to us here."

She frowned as the distant sound of singing and merrymaking reached her. But she fought against its return.

"But I know this place Glorfindel. I cannot leave it now that I've found it once more."

He was suddenly very close to her, blocking her vision with his entire body. She was forced to look up in his eyes.

"That is not possible."

She blinked and found herself in the Hall of Fire once more. Glorfindel still stood closer to her, his hand on her shoulder. The golden leaf had gone, replaced by a deep frown. The vision lingered at the back of her mind like a vague and blurry dream. She blinked a few more times and rubbed her eyes.

"I am tired. Glorfindel? Why you look worried?"

"'Tis nothing," and he replaced the frown with a bright smile. "Come, I'll have you sit before you fall asleep standing."

She followed him to a corner of the room where a few cushions remained unoccupied. They sat together and listened to the singing. Not long after, Melina recognized the voice of Bilbo and she saw him near the fire, reciting a long and strange poem. She understood no words of it, but the rest of the hall quieted down and many went to sit next to his stool. When he was finished they smiled and applauded. A conversation she could not follow started between him and a man she did not know, and the rest of the Hall then returned to their own songs.

She looked over to Glorfindel only to realize that he had been staring at her. There was a strange intensity in his eyes, and a dark seriousness. She felt herself shrink under his scrutiny until she could not hold his gaze anymore and gave a weak chuckle.

"What?" she asked.

But he did not smile. After a moment he shook his head and looked away.

"Nothing." was all the answer she received.

She felt that she had somehow disappointed him, but could not figure out how. Something was bothering him, but if he did not want to talk about it, she certainly could not force him to. Were she able to, she might have tried talking him into opening up to her, but she did not have good enough a grip on the language for such complicated sentences.

The awkwardness of their silence weighted heavily on her heart, but she did not know how to break it. After some time it was he who turned his head but instead of looking at her face he examined her dress up and down.

"I am happy Arwen was able to finish your dress for tonight. It looks very lovely."

The compliment left a bitter-sweet taste in her mouth. "It" was lovely, not her. But she swallowed her pride and decided that although he was being rude, at least he was speaking.

"How you know Arwen make me the dress?"

His eyes wandered up once more and he caught her gaze with a smirk.

"Because I asked her to make it for you before I left since you did not have a dress of your own yet."

Melina's frustration with the man only increased as now she could not keep being angry with him. She wondered whose dresses she had been wearing all this time if they were not hers, but did not ask. He had wanted her to have a dress. She could not help but smile and she looked down at her gown. The dress being a gift from Arwen would have been wonderful of course – but it being a gift from Glorfindel...

"Thank you," she whispered, stroking the soft material with her thumb.

She heard a sigh, but when she looked up he was greeting an approaching figure.

"Gandalf, how does the evening find you."

The old man sat down next to them and smiled.

"Very well. There is no better place in the world for merrymaking. And no greater singers and story tellers."

"You flatter. But I must agree. Elrond does keep his house well inhabited by the merriest of folks."

"And you Melina? How are you feeling?"

"Tired," she answered after a yawn. "But well."

Gandalf's smile seemed to waver then. He reached out and took both her hands in her own. Worry and dread twisted her stomach for the man bore such a serious expression she could not think he had anything good to say. And she was right.

"Melina. There is to be a council tomorrow."

"Council?" the word was unfamiliar to her.

"A meeting of the lords who have come to Rivendell where we will speak of important things. Things you need not concern yourself about, but I need something of you."

Melina frowned. Somehow she did not think Gandalf needed her help like Arwen had needed it earlier. This sounded very important and she was frightened that she might already know exactly what he was about to ask. She was tempted to say no. She owed him nothing. But that was the old Melina speaking. The selfish and scared woman who had never risked anything in life and had died alone and lonely. She squeezed his hands for courage.

"What you need me to do?"

He smiled and gently squeezed back.

"Melina, the man in the tower where I found you. The one who sent us up to the top."

She nodded. The Devil.

"He is Saruman and was once an ally to all of us, a very important ally."

Melina did not understand the word "ally" and frowned.

"He was a friend Melina."

"Ah..." was all she said. What else could she say? She felt disgusted by the thought of the Devil being Gandalf's or Elrond's friend and a little betrayed.

"Tomorrow I will tell my story. Our story."

She had known what he was going to ask. Still it nauseated her to think about telling a group of strangers the truth. And now not only would it be exposing her deepest secrets, but it would be her and Gandalf's words against these people's belief that Saruman was someone they could trust. She did not want to have to defend herself. She knew that Gandalf would of course support her, but she realized that she had no idea in which standing he was with these people.

Glorfindel and Elrond seemed to get along well enough with him, and so did the rest of the household. But these other lords Gandalf had mentioned would certainly hail from these new men and dwarves. Not to mention the hobbits. Oh how she would die of shame if her story be heard by Bilbo. And what if they finally asked questions? They would want to know where she came from, how she had arrived to the Tower and what would she answer? Could she lie to them, to Gandalf? But they would never believe her if she told the truth. She was not sure she herself believed the truth anymore.

The world from whence she came seemed a distant and imagined memory now. Could it not be possible that she had imagined her entire previous life in some delirium induced by a head trauma? But again something old and wise inside of her told her that she was not crazy. Her past was neither here nor there though and she returned her thoughts to Gandalf. He had not asked a question she realized, and yet he seemed to be waiting for an answer. So she provided him with the most honest one she could think of.

"I do not know."

He forced a tight smile under his beard and shook his head.

"I must do this Melina. And you should be at the council when I tell it. You do not need to be present for the entire meeting, most of it you will not understand and very little concerns you. But I would ask this of you."

"No, Gandalf I...no." she tried to pry her hands away, but he held on.

She quickly realized that she would give in. Gandalf was not offering her choices, he wanted her present and so she would be. It made her angry. It was her story, her pain and terrors he would share and he had no right to do so. She was not ready to speak of the Tower. Not ready to face everything again. She was certain that it would only make matters much worse than they already were. She would much rather be a mystery, to give the ones around her the benefit of the doubt. Maybe she had not been mutilated, perhaps she had been born that way or some horrible accident had caused her injuries.

She stopped struggling to free her hands and left them limp. She did not have the energy to fight him.

"Oh Melina," he whispered softly. "I am ever so sorry."

He lifted both hands to his mouth and placed a kiss on each one. He then rested them gently on her knees and stood up. As he did so he leaned over and kissed her forehead. Then he straightened and announced.

"I shall see you tomorrow then. Serien will bring you to the council when the time comes."

He turned and left. She felt alone and vulnerable. Shivering though it was not cold, Melina decided it was time she head to bed. There were too many thoughts in her mind for her to think clearly and the Hall of Fire was making her head fuzzy. She pushed herself up shakily, stumbled and felt a strong arm stabilize her.

"Allow me to help you to your room."

She had completely forgotten Glorfindel's presence. His face held no more traces of his earlier sternness and she breathed a sigh of relief. She needed friends at the moment and could not have been able to deal with the knowledge that she had somehow angered him.

They left the room in silence without biding anyone goodnight. The cool air outside helped clear her mind slightly, but she was still too overwhelmed to think straight. Instead she contemplated the beauty of the sky. It was a moonless night and the stars shone brighter than ever. She stopped walking for a moment to truly take in the eeriness of the scenery. Melina had never been an astrologer, but she had been able to distinguish the easiest of constellation. But there was nothing familiar about this sky. No point of reference. Not even the North star.

She heard Glorfindel's footstep falter as he realized she had stopped until he too paused. After a moment she was startled by his voice.

"You do not know the sky."

It was not a question. She imagined how strange it must be for someone not to recognize something as important as constellations here. She had witnessed their level of technology and had no doubt that knowing how to read the stars was an important, and potentially life-saving, skill. Not to mention the stories she was certain they associated with them. Legends they had conjured around images they had drawn between stars.

"No. I do not."

She looked at him with confidence. There was no reason to lie, no reason to hide anymore. Gandalf would tell the world of her sorrows, she could only accept it. She would not share her past with them, not with strangers. But maybe one day she would open up to friends.

"Come, you will need rest for tomorrow."

She nodded and went along. When he offered her his arm she took it gratefully. She felt that a strange calm had overcome her. Her mind was devoid of conflict or analysis. The only thing she thought of was the present. The sound of their feet on the ground, the wind in the trees, the warmth of his body next to hers and the prospect of sleep.

When they reached her bedroom doorway they stopped. She took one more step and turned to him.

"Thank you."

He inclined his head, a curtain of golden hair falling against his face and she could not resist reaching up and pushing the strands away from his eyes. He looked up, startled, and Melina froze. She quickly pulled her hands away but they were caught by Glorfindel. He held her fingers in his hands and seemed to search her face. Melina wanted nothing more than to lean over and place her lips against his, but she could not find the courage to do so. The possibility of him pushing her away in disgust was too probable and she would not risk it. It was better to dream than to know the terrible truth.

She attempted to give him a friendly smile and a shrug, but his face remained serious. At length he asked:

"Who are you Melina?"

She had no answer. She wanted to chuckle and tell him her full name, but her lips would not move. For some strange reason her name felt like a lie. She so wanted to tell him the truth, to open up and reveal everything. But nothing about her past felt real. Or at least, it felt so incomplete that it might as well be a lie. What she wanted to tell him, what she truly needed to share, she could not remember herself. More than ever she now felt that there was a hole in her soul. A piece that she had lost somewhere. A dark corridor in her memory where there had once been light.

And so, for the second time that night, she answered with the most truthful words:

"I don't know."

And as Gandalf had done, and yet so differently, Glorfindel brought both her hands to his lip and placed a kiss on each one.

"Good night." he said before leaving.

She watched him go until he blended with the darkness and then quickly undressed and slipped into the thick warm sheets of her bed. Tomorrow would be the worst day of her life in the house, she was certain. But she was not able to think too much about it for sleep quickly took over and the last thoughts she had before slipping into a world of dreams was Glorfindel in a field of gold.


	12. Truth

**Author's Note: **Hey folks. I wanted to have this chapter out by last Friday, but that did not work out. In all honesty I was having trouble with the end, but I think I was just trying to say too much and it works better like this. It's quite a short chapter, I apologize, but I didn't want to overload it with too many events or go and describe too much of the Council. I'm not here to retype everything Tolkien wrote ;) I'm still on the line with the chapter, but I'll put it out there. Please let me know what you thought. And just a reminder that I have no beta reader, so all mistakes are mine - sorry.

**Chapter 12**

"_The truth is rarely pure and never simple."_  
Oscar Wilde (1854-1900)

The light entering through the bedroom window was soft and warm. It cast playful shadows along the floor as a soft breeze rustled through the thin silky curtains. The sound of gentle voices filled the entire house and mixed with the songs of nearby birds in perfect unison. But to all of these joyful details, Melina was oblivious. She only saw darkness, which was in large part due to the fact that her face was buried in her pillow and her duvet pulled high above her head.

She had skipped breakfast, unable to find the strength to leave the comfort and security of her bed. She might have felt silly and childish, were in not for the fact that she could feel nothing. Numbness filled her heart and soul.

No one had come looking for her, not yet. She harbored the deranged hope that Gandalf would forget about his request, or rethink its logic. She was weak and fragile and it would be devastating for her to go through a retelling of her past in front of an audience full of strangers. But she knew they would come for her when it was time. He would use her as proof. She was a piece of evidence supporting his accusation of the white Devil. A tight knot formed in her guts at the thought of the creature that had ordered her torture.

It had been easier, somehow, long ago, to think that what she had been through had been purgatory. That she had received her just punishment for her sins. Her greed, anger and selfishness. To have had a hand in the pain that had been done to it. Because the only thing worse than being raped, was the daunting task of accepting the fact that you had done nothing to deserve it. And she was not there yet...she could not even contemplate the idea that her presence at the Tower had been nothing more than bad luck. That there was no Devil, only a man gone insane who would have tortured anyone he had encountered that day.

It was a sad day when one had to admit to themselves that they were not the lead actors in their own lives. That they were nothing more than collateral damage in something that had nothing to do with them. But she was not there, she could not accept it. She would never...

"Melina..."

A flood of sunlight accompanied Serien's soft whisper along with a delicate hand on her shaking shoulder. It was only then that Melina realized she had been sobbing. She lifted her head and stared at the wet circle on her pillow for a moment before turning to her friend's worried face.

"Searien...I cannot..."

She so dearly wanted to be gathered up in friendly arms and told she would not have to go, but Serien only fell to her knees by her bed and asked:

"Why not?"

"Because! Gandalf uses me for proving something to the Council. I not want to be used Serien!"

"Melina. I do not pretend to know what you have been through. Or to understand why you are so troubled about the council. But I know you. You are strong." she ran her smooth thumb across Melina's cheek to catch a falling tear, "Stronger than you think. There is something inside of you that begs to come out, but you are so afraid of it that you keep it tightly locked behind your pain and secrets. Gandalf is a wise man Melina. And respected. Lord Elrond, and most present at the council, trust him beyond any..."

Melina was listening, waiting for Serien to continue, to make some sort of point, but she left her words hanging and only looked at her. Then she frowned.

"Gandalf does not need me...?"

"Melina I know nothing of this, I am no one's confident. But it is my belief that Gandalf does this for you. Because it will help you."

There was a pause. Melina was about to let off a rant on Gandalf, share her frustration and anger at being handled this way, but Serien was not done. She seemed to be considering her next words, weighting them on her tongue. Finally she said firmly.

"And I agree."

Friends gossiped. Friends shared tea and biscuits. They gave each other gifts and exchanged pleasantries. They offered shoulders to cry on and support in time of need. But perhaps the most important role of a friend, was the hard shove in the right direction. The one which the other person might despise you for.

Serien stood up and offered a hand which Melina took after slowly sitting up.

"Serien, I am scared."

"I know. I will be here after, if you need me."

Melina nodded.

"We have to hurry. Use a cloth to freshen yourself up, I will deal with your hair."

"Is it a...big event? Like last night? Or simple clothes is good?"

"No, it is not formal. One of your everyday wear will do."

They were silent for a while as Serien concentrated on braiding her hair and Melina rubbed the signs of sleep off her body. She chose a brown dress she was most comfortable in and which covered most of her body and then stood in front of her mirror.

"Black would be better..." she mumbled to herself. She felt as if she was about to attend her own funeral.

Serien sighed impatiently behind her.

"Come. It is time."

They walked hand in hand out of her room, down a series of marble stairs and through a beautiful corridor roofed with a flowering ivy. Suddenly she could hear the low hum of nearby voices. They turned a corner and there it was, a large stoned garden currently occupied by two dozen men sitting in a circle. She paused, then took two more steps and felt a tug at her hand. She turned to Serien.

"I can go no further. This council is secret Melina, do you understand?"

"I think so..."

Serien smiled.

"You cannot speak of what you hear today. Not to me, or anyone else."

Secrets. She turned to the council seemingly sitting out in the open and thought they did not look secretive at all. But she nodded to Serien and watched her friend turn her back and leave, promising to be there when the time came for Melina to leave. And then she was alone.

Thoughts of running away crossed her mind, but some of the council members had already spotted her and she saw them whispering amongst themselves. So she gathered up what little courage was left in her and slowly walked to the assembly. The first thing she noticed as she arrived was that she seemed to be the only woman present. The second, and more horrific, thing she saw was that almost every single person she knew was present.

Her heart sank as each familiar face turned to her, their expression serious – Legolas, his amused smirk replaced by a tight frown; Elrond, sitting tall and regal on a great chair like a throne; Glorfindel nearby, his eyes piercing through her soul; Gandalf to her left who stopped speaking as she approached, sadness and exhaustion his ever loyal companions; and to her horror a tiny head stretched out and Bilbo looked over at her arrival curiously.

She found it difficult to breathe. Her hands were cold and clammy, her stomach a hard knot. Through blurry vision she saw Elrond stand and extend his hand toward Gandalf. She followed with her eyes and saw that an empty chair had been placed for her at his side though not directly part of the circle. The message was clear, though she was present, she was not part of this council. She moved quickly to her seat, aware of every gaze following her movements.

As she passed by him, Gandalf reached out and squeezed her hand quickly. She wanted to smile for him, but could not find the energy for it. She was too terrified to put up a face, to pretend that she was strong. So she sat behind him and tried to make herself as small as possible. After a moment Gandalf began to speak again, and to her dismay she could not understand a word. She wanted to cry. Not only would her story be told for her as she sat idly by, but it would be done in a language she did not know.

And so she did the only thing she could. She sat quietly, head bent down and peered secretly at the faces around her, waiting for their reactions. They were mostly blank at first, a frown here and there. Sometimes a member would turn to the other and whisper, but none of them looked disgusted or shocked yet. She noticed for the first time two beautiful identical Eldars sitting near Elrond. There was no doubt in Melina's mind that they were somehow related to Arwen and Elrond. They were both engrossed in Gandalf's story, though they showed very little emotion.

The dwarves were not so subtle, but their beards made it difficult to make out what they could have been thinking. Still no one looked at her, and she wondered what Gandalf was rambling on about. But slowly she noticed a difference in the atmosphere. Everyone seemed to become somber, frowns of confusion and shock settling in their brow. A few seemed to want to interrupt, but kept their lips tightly sealed. Besides her she saw Gandalf's shoulders slump and he passed a tired hand through his beard.

It was coming. She could feel it. Unsure if to stop him or encourage him, Melina reached out discreetly and pressed her hand against Gandalf's lower back. He turned to her and for a brief moment their eyes met and the strangest thing happened. It seemed to her that the unintelligible words flowing from his mouth began to paint a picture, and the more he spoke, the greater the image became until it filled her vision.

She was in a room all too familiar to her, discussing with none other than the Devil. He stood tall, proud and insane waving a hand in the air in the direction of...herself. Seeing herself from Gandalf's perspective was shocking.

She looked terrible. Terrifying in fact. Nothing but bones with a translucent skin stretched over them. Patches of hair was missing from her skull, most of her fingers were crooked in painful angles and where her fingernails should have been there was nothing but bloody flesh.

Feelings that were not hers filled her heart. Sadness, compassion and terrible anger at the man known as Saruman. This was how Gandalf had seen her, how dismayed he had been, how the feeling of betrayal had been so great he had feared to drown in it. Saruman screamed for attention and for the first time she understood what he had said.

"Oh do not look so surprised Gandalf. You came here pretending to seek council, offering unwanted advice and wisdom. But secretly you send spies to my home."

"Saruman, what have you done?" it was barely a whisper.

"Do not play daft."

"Saruman! I have never seen this woman in my life! That you have fallen so low as to be able to inflict such pain on an innocent soul...Your thirst for power has blinded you."

"Oh you have seen her before. You do not recognize her? Well, I shall not apologize for she only received what she deserved. What others were too weak to give her."

Gandalf was confused, he turned to look at the woman once more, searched her eyes, but only ascertained the fact that he did not know her. Saruman had lost his mind. Saw enemies where there were none.

"No matter. You will have plenty of time to get reacquainted. Maybe you can even get her to speak more than gibberish. Though I doubt she will survive upstairs..."

And off they were taken. Helpless, Gandalf could only obey and watch. Melina felt his dismay at the scenery under him and his anger at this currently unsolvable impasse. She sensed the urgency of her situation through him, saw how he picked up her mutilated body and his tender whispers in her ear. Watched how she fell in a deep sleep, cocooned in his grey cloak.

The image then began to wane. She thought she saw an eagle at some point, long after they had been carried upstairs, but as it took flight reality came back.

She gasped, unknowingly having held her breath through most of the scene. After blinking away her tears and whipping her face with her sleeves, she looked at Gandalf, but he did not turn to her. Then she eyed the council fearfully. Pity, sadness, even anger...She could not look at any of their faces directly, though most of the members tried to catch her eyes. She wanted to leave now, but her body felt cold and heavy. She had done what Gandalf, and Serien, had asked, her presence was not required anymore.

Finally the heavy silence that had settled in the garden was broken by Gandalf. It took a moment, but one by one the faces turned away from her and back toward him. He was continuing his story. This was her chance to leave. She wondered if it would be rude of her to simply stand up, then wondered if she truly cared about politeness. Both deciding that she did not care at all, and receiving a quick nod from Elrond as she stood, Melina quickly made her exit. She kept her head low as she left the circle, but could not help turning her head one last time as she stepped out.

Something had caught her eye. Something she had not noticed when she had first arrived. What she had thought to be a lone and empty pedestal in the middle of the circle seemed to actually be carrying an item. It was difficult to see from where she stood, but she saw a glint of gold in the sunlight and shivered. Unable to stop herself, she took one step back towards it, but then froze. She raised her gaze slightly and stared directly into Glorfindel's face.

He was watching her, his eyes stern. She wanted to go to him so badly at that moment that her heart ached. But this was not the time and place. She waited for him to turn away, to return to Gandalf's storytelling. He never did. His eyes were locked to hers, forcing her to move and break away. Fresh tears were running down her face by the time she encountered Serien again.

Her friend did not ask how it had went, or how she felt. In fact, Serien said nothing at all. She simply took Melina's hand, squeezed it tight, and led her away from the council. They walked in silence for a long time. It took quite a while for Melina to realize that they were not heading for her chambers, but rather seemed to be roaming the house.

Slowly her tears dried and her feelings settled. It was over. And yet it was just beginning. No one at the council had asked her any questions, but she expected them to come at some point. She lifted her head and began to look about. The sun was high in the sky, lunch time would come soon. To her surprise Serien had led her to the Luthien garden. They stopped walking and after a moment Melina whispered.

"She is beautiful."

"None so beautiful has ever lived," Serien answered. "Do you know her story Melina?"

She shook her head slightly, not taking her eyes off the marble woman.

"She was a princess. A long, long time ago. She was most precious to her people, but she fell in love with a mortal man, Beren."

Melina frowned and turned to Serien.

"I not understand "mortal"."

"Mortal means they die."

"And Luthien was not mortal?"

Serien chuckled.

"No, Luthien was an Eldar. She fell in love with Beren, a Man, but her father was..."

"Eldars are not mortal?"

An awkward silence overcame the small garden. A somber shadow seemed to settle on Serien's face, she opened her mouth, but closed it again without speaking.

"Serien...I not understand."

"Melina," she said carefully, "where you come from, there are no Eldar?"

She shook her head.

"No. Only people like me."

Serien took a breath and smiled slightly.

"How old are you?"

Melina held her breath. She looked at Serien's beautiful face, but saw nothing other than friendly curiosity. She was not ready to confide about her resurrection, and yet she could not lie to her friend.

"Old," was all she answered with a smirk.

Serien laughed at this, but this not press the matter.

"I am over 3000 years old."

Melina's smirk disappeared. Then she clicked her tongue and gave a dry chuckle, Serien was pulling her leg. But the woman did not laugh. Suddenly it was not funny anymore and she retorted sourly:

"You lie."

"I do not."

There was nothing to say. Bilbo had spent hours showing her a calendar and going on and on about hobbit holidays. There were as many days in a year here as there had been in her world. A year was a year. Angels. She had given them the name because of their beauty and eery auras...

"You do not die?"

Serien's voice was now little more than a whisper.

"No."

And once more the world around her seemed to collapse. Not with demons are darkness this time. Only the simple image of what she would one day look like once more, old and wrinkled while he stood besides her in eternal youth and beauty.


	13. Death

**Author's Note:** Well hey there. So my plan to get a chapter out by the end of July turns out to be a success, if just...A little update on my ever more chaotic life, I just scored my dream job! I am now working at a gaming company wee! And from home too, so I can still spend time with my little 4 month old daughter. But I would not let baby, work or other household chores prevent me from writing for you lot, NOOO! I persevered, and here you are!

Enjoy! And please review. A simple "great story" goes a long way to give me the energy I need to keep going. Of course, the longer the review, the more energy I get ;)

**Chapter 13**

_Is there life before death?_  
_Graffito, in Belfast_

The fire danced in front of her eyes. She watched it, mesmerized, engrossed in the simplicity of its life. She had been told that the fire in the Hall of Fire was never put out. That it blazed as brightly today as it had the day the Hall had been built.

"We missed you at dinner."

Melina blinked slowly and turned to see who had snuck up from behind. At first she thought there was no one at all, and panicked, was she hearing voices? But she only needed to lower her gaze slightly to find Bilbo standing in the gloom.

"I was not hungry," she replied and turned back to the fire.

She hoped Bilbo would take the hint, but she heard shuffling footsteps soon followed by the groan of an old man plopping down on his favourite cushion.

"Bah, you did not miss much, the food was not very good," he chuckled.

Food in Rivendell was nothing if not exquisite and Melina pulled a face, unamused. Bilbo stopped laughing abruptly, cleared his throat and was quiet for a moment – but just a moment.

"We live in terrible times."

Melina sighed loudly and turned to him, but he was not looking at her. He was staring into the fire and to her utter dismay, Bilbo brought both hands to his face and began to weep. Melina straightened uncomfortably. She watched his frail shoulders shake and could not help but feel sorry for him. She did not know the cause of his sorrow, but doubted it stemmed from Gandalf's story about her past.

After a long while he seemed to collect himself.

"I have made many mistakes in my life, but I never thought they would put Frodo in jeopardy."

Melina was confused now.

"Jeopardy?"

He turned to her as if seeing her for the first time. Then he reached over and tapped her on the knee lightly. It was so patronizing that Melina almost slapped his hand away, but she remembered what Serien had said, "secrets". Still, she needed to ask.

"Is Frodo alright?" she had poured too much of herself into saving that boy's life to let him get in harm's way again.

Bilbo hesitated, seemed to fight more tears, then simply replied:

"I do not think so."

Then silence fell again. Melina did not press the matter, if Bilbo was not allowed to speak to her, she would not force him. She had expected a cheer up speech from the old hobbit...or maybe she had hoped for one. Now she felt even more depressed than before. Suddenly she stood up and declared.

"Good night Bilbo."

He looked at her miserably from the floor and mumbled:

"I am so terribly sorry Melina."

"I know. Me too."

She turned and left. The air outside was cool and fresh, the house seemed entirely quiet, which was uncommon. Melina shivered, crossed both arms against her chest, and started up toward her chambers.

She walked slowly, her feet rustling against the floor. A sudden gust of wind extinguished some of the nearby lanterns and Melina hugged herself tighter. She picked up her pace, wanting nothing more than to crawl beneath her covers and forget about the day.

Her room was pitch black, unusual since Serien normally left at least one lantern burning. Blaming the wind and seeing no use in lighting a lantern now, Melina simply began to undress as soon as she walked inside.

"Melina..."

Her scream pierced the air. A figure lunged at her from her bed and she scrambled to get away from it. Hands gripped her arms firmly and pulled her close. She struggled and screamed some more. Then stopped abruptly. It was his smell, his warmth, the tingly feeling at the back of her neck every time she approached him, the sound of his voice...

"Forgive me, I did not mean to..."

Her heart was beating so terribly fast. She tried to take a breath, but choked. She raised her hands and grabbed his back, trying to pull herself impossibly closer to him. Again she tried to breathe, but nothing happened. Against her ear she felt his lips.

"I am so sorry Melina..."

The hands on her shoulders dropped and moved to encircle her instead. All strength then left her body and she collapsed against him, tears following against his robes. And still he whispered:

"I am so, so sorry."

Again and again. Until, with each breath, her hiccups eased into shallow breathing, and then into nothing but silent tears. It took her a moment to realize that his words had turned into a song, but when she did her tears stopped. She could not understand his words, but it did not matter. The tone was soothing, tender, something akin to a lullaby. After a moment he stopped. They stood, still entangled in each others' arms, in the silent night.

Melina did not want to move and was too afraid to speak, less it made him pull away. She could not help the soft sigh of pleasure that escaped her lips though and froze. When she felt him pull away, she wanted to fight it, to clench her fists tightly and keep him close, but she did not. His hands returned to her shoulders, he took a step back to create a safe distance between them, and looked down to her. Had it been bright enough, he could have seen her burning cheeks. Still, despite the darkness, she could not bring herself to lift her eyes to him, too afraid he would read her like a book.

"Melina...between us..."

She wanted to dig herself a hole, crawl into it, and never reappear. Never mind her cheeks, her entire face was burning. Before he could continue to speak, she quickly lifted her hand and pressed her fingers against his lips. She could not have him say the words she dreaded so much.

"Friends."

She felt his lips tighten under her fingertips and dropped her hand. She clenched her teeth, forced herself not to break down again as he took another step back and bowed to her. Then he turned and headed for the door swiftly.

"Why!" she yelled.

He stopped abruptly, and turned around once more. Melina was shocked, she had not meant to speak. But the question was running around in her mind, and she could find no answer. He was waiting.

"Why are you here...on my bed?"

Silence.

Hope began to fill her heart once more. She could not make out his face in the night and it drove her mad. She would give anything to know his thoughts, or at least have a hint at his feelings.

He made a step in her direction, and she backed away, less he get too close again and cause her to betray her feelings once more.

"I wanted to ask how you had arrived at Orthanc all those months ago."

She had expected the question to come, but not from him, and not in such a distant and emotionless tone. Like an interrogation. She raised her arms across her chest in an attempt to shield herself from him.

"Leave." she whispered, too quiet for anyone to hear, but he heard.

Without any further exchange, she watched him turn and leave her room. Her heart raced, she wanted to call him back, to tell him she had not meant it, but her lips refused to move. He quickly disappeared into the night, leaving her standing alone in the cold.

For a long time she did not sleep. And when she finally did succumb to her exhaustion, it was to find troubling dreams. She awoke in the early hours of the day, drenched in sweat and entangled in her sheets. Realizing that she was starving, she headed down to the dinning hall. As she expected it was empty. She crossed the silent room and entered the kitchen. Three cooks were bustling around, preparing the first meal of the day. When she saw them Melina froze. She held her breath, waiting for them to see her, waiting to see pity and horror in their eyes. Everyone would treat her differently now...

"Good morning lady! What brings you here at such an hour?"

Nothing. Melina suddenly realized that, of course, no one that had not been present at the council would know! Well, at least not unless they were told by someone who had been present. The cook was still looking at her, his smile wavering slightly at her silent stare.

"Sorry! Yes, I mean...it is very early. But I not had dinner yesterday night, I mean evening," she groaned.

The cook chuckled.

"'Tis no problem. Please sit, I will bring you something to eat."

"Thank you," she murmured and moved to the indicated stool.

As she sat there waiting for her breakfast to be served, Melina noticed a few travelling bags opened in front of her. In them she noticed some of the golden brown bread that she had once found during a midnight raid of the kitchen. Her stomach growled loudly and her mouth watered at the sight. She was debating whether or not to take one when the cook returned.

"Here you are my lady, I dare say you will find this much more appetizing than lembas bread!" he chuckled.

"Lembas?"

He picked up one of the pieces from the closest travelling bag.

"These are called Lembas bread. They are specially made to sustain travellers on long journeys when other foods are hard to find," he looked at the bread, then at her and frowned. "You would not have happened to eat one of these a few weeks ago? A piece inexplicably went missing from our stores."

Melina blushed brightly and even before she could think about denying it, the cook said in a more serious tone:

"'Tis no matter. But please, abstain yourself from them in the future. They are not meant for the race of men."

He carefully stowed the bread away once more. She certainly did not understand the fuss about the bread, but she had been caught "stealing" and so apologized and promised not to touch them again. As the cook was about to return to his morning activities, Melina remembered to thank him.

"Oh, thank you, for breakfast, ermm..."

"Curuon."

"Thank you, Curuon."

He nodded and turned away.

Melina left the kitchen as soon as she was done, thanking Curuon and the other chefs as she did. She wanted to escape the breakfast crowd before they appeared, and she breathed a sigh of relief when entering the dinning room. Hardly anyone had arrived, and those that had did not know her well enough to give her anything more than a smile as greeting.

Once outside she headed for her bedchambers in the hope that Serien might appear. She needed to talk to someone and she was the closest friend she had. She also felt ashamed of the way she had treated her the day prior and wanted to maybe try and explain the reason behind her anger. But Serien was not there. Melina waited for an hour, occupying herself by writing a few lines of gibberish in her journal, then finally gave up.

She could have gone to the dinning hall, she knew Serien almost always had breakfast, but she did not want to risk meeting Glorfindel. She was still both too angry and too hurt to face him now without breaking down...or hitting him. She was not quite sure which might happen.

Finally admitting to herself that Serien had the right to be angry with her and probably did not wish to see her, Melina left her chambers. As always when she had no real destination in mind, she quickly arrived at the Luthien garden. It was thankfully empty, as usual, and she sat down behind the statue, on a bench not easily seen from the corridor passing by.

The sounds in the house seemed to have change recently. The birds and the singers were still present, but once in a while loud boisterous voices would erupt from various rooms. Rough voices, not the soothing musical laughter of the Eldars. Voices of mortals.

She sighed loudly.

"Melina?"

The voice made her jump. She held her breath for a moment, not certain if she wanted to be found. But before she could reply or think about running away, Serien's friendly face appeared around the statue.

"I thought I heard you."

Melina smiled weakly. She wanted to apologize and invite her friend to sit with her, but she had very little practice with such things. She could practically count on the fingers of one hand how many people had ever heard her apologize.

Perhaps sensing her discomfort, Serien spoke first.

"May I sit down?"

"Yes. Please!"

Melina scooted over and was silent once more. She hoped that Serien would fill the void once more, but her friend said nothing.

"Serien, about yesterday. I am sorry I was rude."

Her friend turned to her with a bright smile.

"It is already forgotten Melina. I want to apologize as well."

"Why?"

"I am not accustomed to being around someone who knows so very little about...everything. Who and what we are is no secret. I assumed that everyone knew about the Eldar. I did not mean to hurt you."

Melina looked away in an attempt to hide her tears. It was not Serien's apology, as much as everything else that had happened yesterday that caused her sorrow. And though her friend had meant for her words to be soothing, they twisted a knife deep into the wound of Melina's soul. She knew so very little...she knew nothing. She was learning as fast as she could, and still it seemed that it was never enough.

Then there was Glorfindel...how powerful she thought her emotions toward him were, yet he too was a mystery. Aside from his name, what did she truly know of the man?

A sob escaped her lips and Serien placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"Now I have made you cry again. Melina, speak to me. What troubles you so?"

For a split second Melina was about to say everything. To talk about where she came from, what had happened to her, and most importantly, she wanted to tell Serien about Glorfindel. How she felt toward him, how humiliated she had felt last night and how angry she was with him, but with herself mostly. She wanted to ask for her advice, for her support.

But as soon as her mouth opened, she stopped. And instead of the words she truly wanted to speak, she asked:

"Tell me, Serien. Tell me the story of Luthien, please."

Her friend seemed visibly pained at the change of topic. Melina too, hurt. She wished she had the courage to open herself to Serien, but even though she loved her friend, she feared rejection.

After a moment Serien began to speak.

"Well, as I said before, Luthien was the fairest of our people. One day while she was taking a walk in the woods, she..."

Melina listened to the tale, and as the sun rose higher, her tears dried. On and on Serien spoke, and many a times Melina had to stop her and ask questions. Even then, she did not understand many parts of the story, but she was enthralled nonetheless. She wondered if the tale could really be true, but Serien swore to it.

Melina felt a strange shiver run down her spine when Serien spoke of the Halls of Mandos. And even before her friend explained the Halls in details, Melina had a clear image in her head. Her mental rendering was so detailed that she could have sworn she had been standing there at that moment. The vision quickly passed, though it left her with a sense of longing.

When she was finished Serien abruptly stood up and looked down at Melina.

"Come. The tale of Luthien is not the merriest of stories, but because you asked, I have recited it. But you are in need of happiness, not tragic endings."

Melina looked up slightly confused.

"It was not tragic. Not really...they lived together."

"And died."

"Serien. Death is not so bad when you spend the time with someone you love."

The words had come out, playfully, teasing. But as Serien took a moment to contemplate this answer, Melina could not believe she had spoken it. She had feared death her entire life. She had seen too much death in her youth, pointless, ridiculous death. After the war she had locked herself up, body and soul, and had hoped death would pass her by. It had not, of course. And yet she was here, alive.

"Maybe you are right, Melina. But though the ending may have been a happy one for the couple, my people cannot hide the pain they feel on loosing their most precious daughter. It is as if a star had be stolen from the world."

Melina smiled. She thought the Eldar were often a bit too melodramatic, but it was one of their very endearing traits.

"I understand," she said after a moment. "Did Luthien have any children?"

Serien sighed and sat down again.

"She bore one son only. Who again had three children, one of which was the mother of Elrond."

"And Arwen?"

"Is the daughter of Elrond."

Melina would never in a million years have guessed that Elrond could be so much older than Arwen to be her father. It was unimaginable, mind-boggling really. She suddenly wondered how old Glorfindel could be...but dared not ask such a direct question.

"Yesterday at council. There was two men. They look the same, and also like Elrond and Arwen."

"Elrohir and Elladan, twin sons of Elrond. They only recently returned to the house, which is why you had not met them before."

"Are everyone here related?" she asked sarcastically.

Serien chuckled.

"No, not at all. Many are the last remainders of their entire family."

"Oh, I am sorry..."

"No, no. Nothing like that Melina, well, not for everyone. Many of our people have departed this world and returned to the undying lands."

She shook her head to indicate that she had no idea what Serien meant.

"The undying land is where the ones who created this world live, and where my people can spend the rest of the time this world has. It is said to be a beautiful place, restful and serene. Where the sea is the purest blue, and the fields..."

"Look like gold."

"Yes..."

Serien turned to Melina, confused. Melina herself had no idea where the words had come from, she tried to think quickly of a way to explain her knowledge."

"Bilbo," she blurted out. "I think he talk of this..."

It was a lie, at least as far as she knew. It was entirely possible that the old hobbit has spoken of this undying land, but if he had, she had not understood him. Serien seemed to accept this explanation however and smiled.

For a moment they were both silent. Finally Melina could not hold it in anymore. Thoughts of tonight's dinner came to her mind, and the prospect of sitting next to Glorfindel petrified her. She decided to ease into the conversation.

"Did you see Glorfindel today?"

"No, I believe he left earlier this morning on a scouting mission. He is not expected to return for a few weeks."

An initial wave of relief washed over her, followed by nervous curiosity.

"Where is he gone"

Serien shook her head.

"I was not privy to that information. But a few more scouts have left Rivendell as well. It must have something to do with the council."

"I see..."

This at least meant that she could postpone worrying about how her next meeting with the golden Eldar would go, but it hurt her deeply to know that he had left without saying goodbye. Or had he been in her chambers last night for that very reason? And she had ruined his friendly goodbye by reading too much into his presence? Melina groaned and covered her face with both hands, besides her Serien leaned closer and placed a delicate hand on her shoulder.

"Melina, it will do you no good to keep your troubles inside. Please, tell me what is bothering you."

"I...it is complicated," she mumbled against her palms.

"Most things are."

She let her hands fall heavily against her legs. She was old enough to know how complicated life could get, and should have been old enough to see the hopelessness of her situation – but love blinds all.

"Glorfindel was in my room last night."

Serien's retracted her hand quickly.

"Why?"

Melina shrugged and felt tears coming to her eyes again.

" He said, when leaving, that he wanted to ask me how I arrive in Orthanc, but I think that is not true...he was..."

"Stop. Melina," Serien said in a barely audible whisper. "Is this what you were asked to attend the council for?"

She nodded and sniffed.

"Remember that what happened at the council is not to be spoken about unless it be with other members."

Melina looked at Serien through blurry eyes, was this all her friend could offer?

"Does this have anything to do with...these scars?"

"Yes," she said softly.

Her friend reached over once again and took one of Melina's hand in her own.

"This happened in Orthanc?" her voice wavered slightly as she reached out with her other hand and traced one of the scars on Melina's face.

She simply nodded a second time.

"Oh Melina."

In an instant she was in Serien's tight embrace. The touch was welcomed, but it was not at all what Melina had been looking for. She had had weeks to deal with the events in Orthanc, and although speaking about it had been hard, she now felt it paled in comparison to her problems with Glorfindel now.

After a few seconds Serien backed away.

"May I ask, as Glorfindel did, the reason you were in Orthanc?"

"I do not know...Serien, please, it is not important. This is not the problem."

Her friend nodded and did not press the matter.

"I do not understand what bothers you then, this is about Glorfindel?"

"Serien..." she looked at her friend weakly, unable to put emotions into word. She could not use the words required.

She heard a soft gasp and suddenly Serien grabbed both of her hands firmly.

"Do not put yourself through this Melina! Oh how could I have been so blind. First your reaction to the knowledge of our immortality, and today your interest in Luthien's story. I beg of you, forget any feelings you might have for Lord Glorfindel. I know he has shown you friendship, but to think he would take it any further is folly."

Melina tried to rip her hands free, but her friend held on with frightening strength.

"Melina you have to believe me, I do not say this to hurt or pain you in any way. I only want to save you from the inevitable heartbreak that awaits you if you pursue this."

Fresh tears streamed down her cheeks as she stared into her friend's eyes.

"Promise me that you will not try to take your relationship beyond that of friendship."

"I cannot promise that!" her voice cracked, she was being loud.

She struggled harder against Serien.

"Then promise me that you will at least consider what I said and think about the dire consequences of your choice!"

"You mean death."

She stopped trying to get away. Though distant she could have sworn that she heard the shrill of a seagull, and her nose was suddenly filled with the sting of salt. She breathed in deeply and closed her eyes to better enjoy the feeling of the waves lapping at her feet. She was barely aware of a voice that sounded exactly like hers speaking in something that sounded very similar to Sindarin, and yet was not.

"You do not care of my feelings, of my life, because my life will end. Someone like Glorfindel though, like yourself, you believe that you are more iportant because you are immortal. You are wrong to underestimate the strength of human love Serien, wrong to dismiss the choice of death as a terrible tragedy when it means to die with the one person who was you entire reason to live."

The waves receded, the smell of wood and autumn returned, and she felt as though she was falling, air rushing at her face. Searing pain her skull; she opened her eyes to find herself on the ground next to the statue.

"Ow..."

She pushed herself up slowly, once on her knees she reached up to her forehead and winced. On her fingers she saw blood. She turned her head and looked at Serien with a frown.

"You push me?"

Her friend did not answer. Her mouth was opened slightly, and her eyes wide. Melina's frown deepened. She stood up and dusted her dress. She looked at Luthien for a moment.

"I promise Serien."

She heard shuffling behind her, a second later Serien was standing besides her. She was not smiling, but at least she had closed her mouth.

"I learn one thing from you, and think to know you better; before being served with an entirely new level of mystery."

"I do not understand..."

"No, I imagine you do not. I cannot fathom what a life it must be, to know nothing and yet feel as if you should."

"How do you know this?" Melina turned toward her friend, hope in her heart.

"I may not look it Melina, but I quite old. One acquires a certain amount of knowledge during such a lifetime, but I am afraid that I am of no help to you. You will get answers, in time." Melina opened her mouth, "No, do not ask for I do not have the answers you need. I will tell you this, you should maybe ask Glorfindel to teach you Quenya."

"Quenya?"

"It is the original language of our people."

"Not another language Serien, one is hard enough."

"Oh I think you would take very well to it."

She smirked and Melina frowned. She felt as if she was missing something, but could not think what it could be.

"Come, let us get change your thoughts."

Melina took the offered hands and together they walked through the house and over to Arwen's garden. There, amid smiles, chatter, songs and embroidery, Melina was able to momentarily forget about her troubles. No one here had been had the council, no one cared of her relationships.

She remained with the women through lunch and most of the afternoon. In fact she only left with Serien to get ready for dinner. It felt strange to walk into the dinning hall and not see Glorfindel's smiling face in the seat next to hers. Instead, it was occupied today by a man she vaguely remembered seeing at the council and once more before that when she had been taking care of Frodo – Aragorn she recalled.

As Serien left her to reach her own seat, Melina's breathing quickened. They knew now. Every single person sitting next to her now knew what had happened. Would Legolas still play tricks and joke with her? Would Elrond still remain slightly aloof while still occasionally granting her an affectionate smile? Would Gandalf mention the strange vision that she had experienced at the council?

These questions and more ran rampage in her head as she approached her chair. Without Glorfindel present, and Legolas on the other side of the table, Melina reached out to pull it out herself, but Aragorn noticed her presence and jumped to his feet and silently pulled her chair.

"Thank you," she murmured and sat down quickly.

At first she kept her eyes glued to her plate, afraid of the looks she might see if she lifted her head. It was of course none other than Legolas who managed to snap her out of her shell.

"I will not even ask, for I can see clearly that tonight, my lady Melina, you will need wine."

She raised her eyes, and met his youthful, smiling face. She took the offered glass and smiled sweetly. She took a rather large sip of the sweet liquid, Legolas chuckled. Before she could have the chance to shrivel back in her chair and purposefully ignore everyone though, he pulled at his neighbour's sleeve and pointed at her.

"Elladan my friend, I do not believe you have had the pleasure of meeting the lady Melina personally. Melina, this is Elladan, the worst archer I have ever seen."

The dark haired elf bowed his head to her.

"It is an honour Melina. Unfortunately our friend may have drunk a cup too many already, my name is Elrohir at your service. And this, as you may have already guessed, is my brother, Elladan."

The identical copy of Elrohir turned and bowed his head as well.

"You do look very similar..." Legolas grumbled as he emptied his cup.

"It is very nice to meet you," Melina said with a smile. "And I will be judge on who is better archer," she turned to Legolas.

"Ah, the lady wishes a demonstration!"

"I would be more than willing to oblige."

"Perhaps at a date when the lives of those involved will no be threatened by the level of intoxication of the participants."

They turned to the lord Elrond simultaneously and Melina had to work hard to erase the smile on her face. But Elrond's lips soften into a smirk and he raised his glass in a silent toast. Legolas hurried to fill his cup once more before following the rest and lifting this glass.

Elrond then turned to Melina.

"It is good to see you at my table again tonight."

"Always a pleasure to be here my lord."

Her eyes wandered to Gandalf, sitting on the opposite side of the table next to Elrond. They exchanged a warm smile, but no words. They would speak later, of this she was certain.

The food was served not long after, and after eating to her satisfaction and drinking more wine than she probably should have, Melina looked for the water. She spotted the pitcher a way to her left, and patted Aragorn gently on the arm.

"Could you pass the wat...oh, wait. You do not understand me..." she bit her lip and was about to look around for help when Aragorn replied.

"I understand perfectly my lady."

"Ah, sorry. I thought...well...the other men, speak the other tongue."

"I speak both."

Melina now felt like an idiot.

"You wanted something, the water perhaps?"

"Yes, please."

He poured her a glass.

"Thank you. How do you know Sindarin?"

"I grew up here in Rivendell."

"I see," she frowned. "Are you an Eldar?"

Everyone around her, including Aragorn, burst out laughing.

"No I am not..."

"Though he might as well be!" Elladan said and Legolas chuckled.

"It would make him the hairiest Eldar I know,"

"Could it be jealousy I hear?" Aragorn passed a hand through the hair on his chin and smiled.

Melina watched the exchange between the men and grinned. The banter continued for the rest of the evening, though when the dancing started a new form of competition began. Legolas was on the floor first of course, which meant that Melina was dragged to her feet, willing or not, and twirled till her head was in the clouds.

The best dancer present, was Legolas' claim as he finished and bowed. This was followed by arguments, teasing, and to the dismay of Melina, more dancing. First with one twin, then the next, and finally Aragorn was convinced to participate. By the end of it she was not quite sure which way was up and when she was asked to judge her partners and declare the best, she said that none could dance like Gandalf.

The entire room erupted in laughter, as Gandalf might very well be the worst dancer alive. Which he promptly demonstrated by launching into a preposterous series of movements.

The night continued on for hours, and probably longer, but Melina was one of the first to leave. She would have loved to keep watching the merriment, but she had started falling asleep standing. It had happened so often that as soon as she left the hall, she stopped and waited. After a moment a figure untangled itself from the crowd and came out to meet her.

"Shall I accompany you to your room?"

She smiled up at Gandalf and stepped closer to him, slipping her arm in his. They walked slowly, she leaning heavily against his bulky frame and he humming one of the songs that had been played that night. When they arrived in her room Gandalf took a step back and looked at her.

"How are you feeling Melina?"

"Good. Better, maybe. I had a dream Gandalf, at the council. When you talk about Orthanc, I saw you...and me."

"I am glad you did. Though it was none of my doing. I hope you understand why I wanted you with me."

"I think so. Serien help me understand."

Gandalf nodded.

"She is a good friend, you are lucky Melina."

"I know."

"Well then, I bid you good night," he leaned over and kissed her forehead gently.

"Good night."

She watched him turn and leave, but before he was out of her room, she remembered a question she had been meaning to ask.

"Gandalf. Do you think is tragic to die, for love? I mean, to choose to not live forever because you love a mortal."

He smiled.

"Love is the very best reason to do anything. Luthien chose wisely."

She grinned.

"Good night then."

"Sweet dreams, Melina."


End file.
